Marriage Law Wordsmiths & Betas One Shot Competition
by wordsmithsandbetas
Summary: Thirteen entries written by multiple authors for the W&B Marriage Law Competition.
1. Introduction and Information

**Wordsmiths & Betas Marriage Law One Shot Competition**

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 **PROMPT:** The theme this round is Marriage Law. Be creative, but your story must include a marriage law of some sort. This is a law that makes it mandatory for pairings of some sort to marry. The particulars of the law vary through different fics and you may mandate the parameters of the law in your own OS.

 **TIME PERIOD:** Any

 **PAIRING:** Any

 **WORD COUNT:** 5,000 minimum - 15,000 maximum

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 **NOTE:** The following works are submissions to the Wordsmiths & Betas facebook group email by individual authors, or author groups. All stories on this profile are works submitted, and are not the work of any one author. Entrants will remain anonymous to all judges and readers until the time of voting is completed. Only the author, their beta, and two moderators are aware of the identities of the writer for each submission.  
 **  
DISCLAIMER:** Any Harry Potter themes, elements, and characters are copyright to J. K. Rowling. The contributing authors are not profiting from their created works.

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 **BETA LOVE:**

The following users (listed alphabetically) contributed as betas on one or more of the stories submitted.

 ** **Ariel Riddle,**** ** **JustJessie24601, Ladiefury, MissusSBlack, oblivion . baby,**** ** **RavenclawMidwife, RooOjoy****

 **READERS:** Please read each chapter, leave an appropriate review based on the writer's listed preference, and vote for your favorites in the link in the facebook group! Voting period is from September 6, 2016 to **October 1, 2016** at **11:59pm CST**.

Happy reading!

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 **CHAPTER INDEX:  
** (Listed in alphabetical order by title)

 **Chapter 2 - A Better Wife**

 **Chapter 3 - A Marauders' Night's Dream**

 **Chapter 4 - A Moon, and Its Sun.**

 **Chapter 5 - An Unconventional Escape**

 **Chapter 6 - Crossing Paths**

 **Chapter 7 - Dove**

 **Chapter 9 - Her Last Chance**

 **Chapter 10 - In the Eyes of the Law**

 **Chapter 11 - Mine**

 **Chapter 12 - Painting the Night Sky**

 **Chapter 13 - Sacrificial Bond**

 **Chapter 14 - The Laws of Wolves**

 **Chapter 15 - The Whole World**


	2. A Better Wife

**Wordsmiths & Betas Marriage Law One Shot Writing Competition**

\- Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. You will find this information at the bottom of each entry. Thank you for reading!

 **Entry Number & Title: A Better Wife**

 **Rating: T**

 **Genre: Romance**

 **Pairing: Albus Potter / Original Female Character**

 **Triggers: Infertility Mentioned**

 **Warnings: Language**

 **Disclaimer:** All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the authors represented here are profiting from these stories.

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 **A Better Wife**

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"Fuck, mate. I mean. Just. Fucking… What? What do I do?!" Albus sunk his head and ran his fingers through his dark auburn hair, leaving it even more unruly than it already had been. He left out a huff of frustration, skulling back the dregs of the spicy ale at the bottom of his pint glass before pinning his friend with an insistent look of desperation, his eyes begging for a magical solution.

Scorpius broke the gaze, looking down at the parchment in his hands, and shook his head. "I dunno, buddy. I really don't know what to say. I don't know if there is going to be a way out of this."

"But I can't just marry some random bird I've never even met! And a Muggle!... I mean, not that there's anything wrong with being a Muggle!" he added hastily at his friend's raised eyebrows. "It's just… It's just…."

"... not quite how you imagined your life going?" Scorpius suggested, raising his fingers at the barmaid to signal a refill.

"Something like that." Albus muttered, circling the top of his empty glass with his finger.

Scorpius looked at his friend, asking quietly,"But what about…"

Albus looked up. Scorpius paused, then sighed and looked away.

"... what about Longbottom?"

"Charlotte? Fuck, Scorp, you know I don't give a shit about Charlotte!... I mean, no, of course I care about her but… Not like… Not the way she wants me to. It'll break her heart but honestly, it's kind of easier for everyone if the Ministry breaks her heart rather than me."

"That's a cop out Al."

"I know… I know, okay, I'm not thinking straight, this is a shock you know?! It's just...

"...fuck?"

"Exactly."

Scorpius took a deep drink of the fresh ale and looked down again at the parchment that was slowly soaking up errant alcohol on the bar table in front of him.

" _Congratulations_!" He read aloud. "I mean, the gall! _You have been personally selected by the Muggle-Wizard Relations Committee to take part in the Marriage and Integration Programme!_ Oh ho, I can just see the headlines now! 'Precious Potter to Mate with Muggle!'"

"Too soon, Scorp, too soon! Fuck! This isn't a joke! This is marriage! Like legally and magically binding, gotta do the deed, even if she's ugly as fuck, marriage!"

"Al! I thought you said this wasn't a joke!"

"I'm not bloody joking! Godric save me!" He took another swig of ale. "If my dad were here…" He broke off and looked away.

Scorpius looked pained. "You're right. He'd never have let them get away with this."

"Fuck I miss him Scorp. The bastard. We had our moments but… I miss the bugger."

"I know mate. Of course you do."

They were silent a moment, before Scorpius said, "There's only one thing for it, Al."

"And what's that?" Albus asked skeptically.

"Firewhiskey."

"Firewhiskey brother! Fucking firewhiskey! I'll drink to that!"

* * *

Laura stared at the strange, old fashioned paper in her hands, her fingers trembling. An owl was standing on the mailbox, looking confused. She didn't quite know how an owl could look confused, but it did. Luke and Jett danced around her, trying to pull the letter out of her hands.

"What is it?!"

"You never get mail!"

"Is it a luuuuuuuuurve letter?"

"Is it a university thing?"

"Why is it all old looking? Is that calligraphy?"

"It's a love letter, isn't it?!"

Laura wove and dodged around them, holding the letter above her head, her cries of "shut up! Stop it! Leave it alone!" falling on deaf ears. She ran past them down the hallway to the bathroom and slammed the door quickly in their faces, greeting their continued chatter with a loud and serious "FUCK OFF!"

"Did Laura just swear?"

"And, like, raise her VOICE?"

She heard the sound of shuffling feet and knew they were gone. She sighed. It was impossible to get a second to oneself when you had six siblings. Six very loud and obnoxious siblings. It was especially very difficult to be an introvert when you had six very loud, obnoxious and nosy siblings. She'd been wanting to tell the twins to fuck the fuck off for a very long time now, and she felt kind of satisfied and only a little bit guilty that it had finally happened.

She sighed, turning her attention to the letter, knowing she had maybe 90 seconds max to digest it before the twins came back with whoever they had assumedly gone to fetch. Words ran before her eyes, blending together, making no sense: _marriage, congratulations, you have been chosen, muggle-wizard relations, improved future for us all, vision of integration…_ And then the words that shocked her the most: _Albus Potter_.

She read them over and over: _Albus Potter Albus Potter Albus Potter_. The son of the great and revered Harry Potter. The man who saved them all when he was just a boy. It was still funny to think that a whole war had happened without Muggles knowing anything about it, just going about their daily lives. Of course, she had known about the existence of the Wizarding World basically her whole life. After the war, the Ministry of Magic had realised how close things had come to disaster for both worlds. After many years of debate and discussion, the Ministry and the Muggle government together had decided to reveal the existence of magic and wizards to Muggle Britain. The world had gone into a frenzy over it at the time of course, but she had just been a baby, too young to remember. She had grown up knowing the Wizarding world was there, and that she wasn't a part of it… that she was a Muggle. Despite the two worlds existing side by side for so many years now, it wasn't very harmonious. An undercurrent of what could probably best be called "racism" ran through modern life. Wizards and Muggles still existed largely in their own worlds. Muggles still carried both fear and reverence for magic, many people avoiding witches and wizards at all costs, regarding them as evil, making the sign of the cross at the sight of a wand or robe. Many magic folk, on the other hand, seemed to consider themselves superior, and to see Muggles as bumbling idiots, despite the fact that they apparently insisted on completely eschewing modern technology in favour of old fashioned and much slower modalities.

Tensions had slowly been increasing in recent years, so really it shouldn't come as such a surprise that the governing bodies would decide to take drastic action to try and achieve some kind of mutual assimilation, or at least acceptance. But enforced Muggle-Wizard marriage seemed a strange and draconian step. I mean, seriously, what century was this again? Forcing people to marry each other? Laura shook her head, trying to be outraged, but she couldn't ignore the slight fluttering in her tummy. She had always secretly wished she were a witch. She was envious of magic, had spent many an hour as a child daydreaming about living in a pureblood mansion, owning a wand and being able to use it. Or maybe randomly meeting Rose Granger-Weasley and becoming bestest buddies and spending all her time hanging out at Harry Potter's house. And how long had she had a crush on the beautiful Albus Potter?! Almost as long as she had been having crushes. All the teen magazines were full of paparazzi images of James Potter, he was the golden boy, and he played up to it too. But Laura had always seen Albus, not James, in her frequent daydreams. Imagined running her hands through his unruly auburn hair, gazing into those green eyes…

She heard her father's voice and footsteps coming closer, intermingled with those of the twins, and she knew her moment of reflection was about to be shattered. She sighed. Her family was going to freak out. Not in a bad way, but Laura was not a loudly-and-exuberantly-freak-out kinda girl. She prefered to process things quietly, alone. All she wanted to do right now was find a silent spot to do just that. But she knew there was nothing for it but to survive the family freak out first, and process later.

The door burst open. Laura put her game face on.

* * *

Albus stood at the pointy end of the aisle, palms sweaty. He was looking expectantly toward the door at the end, trying to ignore the glint of sunlight dancing off cameras. For some godricforsaken reason, those weird-arse Muggles had decided it would make really great TV viewing if the famous wizard Albus Potter didn't see or meet his bride until the actual wedding ceremony. And for some godricforsaken reason, the Ministry had acquiesced. Muggles were really batshit crazy sometimes. And here he was, about to marry one of them. Marry! For a split second he contemplated bolting out the door and never coming back, but where the heck would he go? And anyway, he was the late great Harry Potter's son and he belonged here, even if the Ministry did insist on treating his life like some kind of Muggle entertainment show.

And plus - there was Mum. Albus scanned the crowd, seeking her out. She wasn't looking at him but had her head bowed, her hand rubbing her forehead under her silver-streaked ginger bangs. Albus frowned. He was worried about her. Losing Dad had hit her hard, but something else seemed to have changed lately. Her nightmares had escalated and her headaches worsened. He had assumed it was to do with grief over her husband, but one night he'd heard her talking in her sleep and she was calling out to her mother, of all people. Albus knew his grandmother had died protecting his mother during the final battle, but was surprised to realise that perhaps his mother was still traumatised by the events after all this time.

The quartet pulled bows over strings, shaking Albus out of his thoughts in time to look up and see the double doors ahead of him open. He took a deep shaky breath and steadied himself, preparing to see his wife and mother of his future children for the first time.

The string instruments reached a rich crescendo, and she entered.

She was dressed richly and extravagantly, as befitted this farce of a performance. Albus ignored the dress and his eyes went straight to her face. She wasn't ugly. In fact, the girl wasn't half bad looking. Albus slowly released the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. She was young and looked nervous, and something else… elated. Albus was confused. Who would be that excited to marry some random man she had never met? She very shyly turned her eyes up to meet his and her expression was of… complete adoration and delight. The realisation hit Albus like a punch in the stomach. Of course she knew who he was. The Muggles found the whole war hero/Potter thing terribly romantic and wasted altogether too many trees gossiping about them in their tabloid papers. It was so easy to forget, ensconced in the comfort of the wizarding world, that these crazy buggers regarded him as some kind of celebrity. A lesser celebrity than the beloved James Potter of course, who was a celebrity in both worlds by sheer force of charisma, but nonetheless a public figure.

Albus felt like an idiot. Here he was, waiting to meet his new wife for the first time as she walked towards their marriage, and she knew all about him already! He felt like the village idiot on display, as if he were the butt of some giant joke. But as she arrived before him and the Muggle celebrant began to drone while the wizard next to him held his wand at the ready to perform the bond, Albus knew that it wasn't a joke. This was real. This silly little fangirl next to him was about to become his partner in life. She turned her eyes timidly to him and he saw her instantly recoil, hurt, at the anger and hate she must have seen there. A small part of him felt guilty, but the mad as hell part wasn't ready to acknowledge it.

His attention turned back to the minister, trying to tune into his words as they washed around him, his chest feeling heavy, his heart pumping fast. This was happening. He was marrying this random Muggle.

* * *

Albus had been silent and terse the rest of the wedding. He barely exchanged a word with his new bride, sitting stiff beside her as they both picked at the exotic and exorbitant food served to them by Muggle waiters (the general Muggle public still weren't quite ready to accept house elves wandering around amongst them yet). The first dance was an awkward affair. Albus refused to look her in the eye, and Random Muggle Girl-Wife, for her part, looked miserable.

Now they were walking in awkward silence toward the fancy hotel room provided for them by the Powers That Be Fucking You Over. Albus reached it first, pushed it open and walked straight to the mini bar, pulling out a pathetic little bottle of JD and taking a swig. It sure wasn't no firewhiskey but it would have to do.

He heard a squeak behind him and realised she must have spoken. He spun around to look at her, sitting with shoulders hunched in her bejeweled white dress upon the giant four poster hotel bed, and spat out "What?!"

She cringed, but then took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye, speaking louder. "I said, I'm sorry. That you had to marry me." She looked away. "I guess you were expecting someone prettier."

Albus looked at her, stunned out of his fermenting anger. He felt his fury seeping out of him like a deflating balloon, leaving behind only shame. This girl wasn't the enemy here. This poor girl was in the same position as he was. Sure, she had known some basic details about his life and appearance, which is more than he'd known about her. But she'd probably been fantasising about some knight in shining armour, and instead had spent the "best day of her life" next to a rude, terse asshole. It was as though the last 12 hours were flashing before his eyes and he felt like his heart had fallen out of his chest as he realised he had behaved like a giant bag of dicks.

Albus crossed the vast hotel room floor and sat down next to her on the edge of the bed, hanging his head and rubbing his hand across his face. He turned to look at her. She wasn't ugly at all, you know. In fact, he could have done a lot worse. She looked like a sweet girl.

"Laura." He said, trying out the word in his mouth. She looked at him, trying not to shrink back and failing, no doubt expecting more assholery. "Laura. I'm so sorry. I've been a gigantic twat, haven't I?"

Her eyes widened - then, surprising them both, she suddenly burst into laughter.

"Well, I'm no twat expert, but I think so, yeah. A pretty big one, yeah."

Albus let out an amused bark, and then started laughing too. They both felt the tension slowly dissipating throughout the room, the nervous energy being expelled as laughter through their mouths.

"I'm so so sorry Laura. I ruined your wedding day."

"It kind of seemed like it was me who ruined yours."

Albus shook his head. "I wasn't expecting someone prettier. I mean - I don't mean - I mean you're not ugly at all."

Laura's lips twitched, unsure if she should laugh or be offended. "Ummm… thanks? I'm…. flattered?"

Albus chuckled, shaking his head again at his own awkwardness. He moved slightly closer on the bed and looked down right into her eyes. They were nice eyes, he noted. Hazel brown. Sweet and smart with a bit of spark.

"You're a very lovely looking girl who I should count myself lucky to be matched with and I'm really sorry I didn't make you feel that way earlier." He felt weirdly proud to see her genuine smile at his words. "Better?"

"Much better," she beamed.

"I just… I felt annoyed when I realised you know who I was and I knew nothing about you. It sounds a bit silly now. Sorry. Again. Just because you knew my name and what I look like, doesn't mean you really knew me at all. And this whole thing - marriage, babies… it wasn't really what I saw myself doing just yet, ya know?"

"I'm eighteen, Albus. It's certainly not what I saw myself doing just yet either."

"You're EIGHTEEN?! Jesus, Merlin and Gandalf! Or something like that, right?"

Laura laughed, feeling more relaxed by the minute. "Yes, I'm eighteen. And you're right, you're nothing like I imagined you to be honest…. But I think I might like the real Albus Potter better than my imaginary one."

That made Albus smile down to his very soul. "You know, I think we might do alright here Laura. Eighteen though! At least you're legal I guess…"

Laura blushed bright red and her gaze flicked involuntarily to the bed, looking uncomfortable.

"Oh Godric, tell me you've… I mean…"

Laura blushed even redder, if that were possible, but looked at him with defiance in her eyes. "I've not, actually, if you must know."

"Fuck me! They sent me a fucking virgin!"

"Nothing but the best for Albus Potter I guess. And I think it's you who's supposed to do the fucking."

Albus stared at her in shock at hearing the strong word come out of her sweet mouth, and then started laughing.

"I like you, Laura. You're spunky. And PRETTY, have I mentioned? Very pretty."

Laura punched him in the arm and he laughed harder. After a few minutes, he expression sobered and he looked at her with his serious face on.

"Laura, I mean this: We will not do anything until you are comfortable with it. Okay? Not tonight, and not until you're ready. I know I'm a bit of an asshole but I'm not THAT much of an asshole. We'll get to know each other first."

"The government want us to have babies, Albus. We're going to have to do it eventually."

"Well, yes, but there's no rush. They didn't even stipulate the baby thing, although yes I admit, the papers made it pretty clear that our lives would be made a lot easier if we pop some sprogs pretty quick smart. Screw them. Do you work?"

"No, I've only just finished school. I was going to go to university - I got accepted into Oxford."

"Oh. Do you want to go to university?"

"Honestly? No. Not really. I… I'm the fourth of seven children Albus, and my twin brothers were born only eleven months after me. I often feel… overlooked. Probably sounds silly but there you go. I've always been smart and I thought if I went to a fancy uni, then maybe… maybe they'd notice me. My family, you know. I've never said that out loud, it sounds really stupid, doesn't it?"

"No, it doesn't sound stupid. Not at all. Well, did any of THEM get married on your Muggle tv whatsit to a wizard though?!"

"I wanted to be noticed for my achievements, not who I married," she said, frowning sternly at him.

His eyes twinkled. "Achievements are overrated, I say. If it weren't for the whole impress-the-folks factor, what would you want to do?"

"Well… actually… I've kind of always dreamed of travelling the world with my camera. Like some kind of photojournalist or something." She looked a bit embarrassed at her admission.

"Yes! Let's do that then! Let's go travelling. I have tons of money that I inherited from my Dad. Mum said we should use it now while we're young and can enjoy it. Nothing's tying either of us down yet, let's go see the world! Come on, what do you say? Baby making takes a while anyway, nothing stopping us from travelling while we… ahhh… practice, right?" he winked at her lecherously for effect.

She laughed. "Wow, you're really serious? That would be a dream. I mean, we can think about it some more, but that sounds amazing."

"I don't know you too well yet Laura, but methinks you think too much. Screw thinking. Speaking of - tell me you've at least tried firewhiskey before?"

"Ahhhh... no… I've not even tried Muggle whiskey. I'm a bit of a goody good, Albus."

"Oh ho, you're gonna be glad you married me! I am here to save you from a life of boring rule-following! Yes indeedy! You got a change of clothes here?"

"No, I was planning on wearing this ridiculous marshmallow to breakfast. Yes, I have a change of clothes."

"Well, chop chop! Go get changed. We're going in search of firewhiskey! If I'm not gonna get laid on my wedding night, I can at least get fucking smashed."

Laura burst out laughing and punched him hard in the arm again. She looked in his cheeky eyes a moment longer, then shrugged and got up to dig out her clothes out of her suitcase.

"I didn't really bring anything good for pubbing…"

"Don't worry my love, I have a magic wand!" He waved his wand in front of her face. "Don't worry, I meant that literally." He winked again. "Get into what you got and we can spruce it up a bit."

"You can do that?! Oh wow. This is going to take some getting used to. But cool!"

She dashed off to the bathroom to get changed and Albus felt himself stir a little more than he was expecting as he watched the way her soft curls bounced against her shoulders.

Later - much later - she lay in the hotel bed, her body buzzing and head dizzy, listening to Albus Potter snore, his body warm beside her. He had kept his promise and been a complete gentleman - well, other than the snogging, which had been thorough and spine tingling. She smiled lazily, the boozy lethargy slowly overtaking her body. She thought she was going to feel trapped in this bizarre forced marriage - but as she fell into sleep, her heart felt lighter and freer than she could ever remember it feeling.

* * *

Sure enough, they stuck to Albus' plan and set off on a whirlwind trip, calling it their "honeymoon" and neglecting to tell everyone they weren't planning on coming back any time soon. Albus managed to maintain his gentlemanly act for exactly 23 days before his growing attraction got the better of him - not that Laura minded, as she'd been a step short of begging him for days - and he made sweet gentle love to her in a little cottage in the French countryside. Laura thought she might die of happiness.

Eventually they went back to real life, Laura working as a freelance photographer in Muggle London and Albus going back to his job at the Ministry. Laura realised that Albus had a very rich life full of friends and family in the wizarding world. She wanted so desperately to be a part of it, but although everyone was lovely and welcoming, she always felt a little bit the outsider, so often not understanding their jokes or references or the implicit meanings that seemed to so often underlie their words. Sometimes it felt like they were speaking a different language and she didn't think she would ever be able to learn it completely.

Well, almost everyone was friendly and welcoming. The Longbottoms regularly joined their get togethers and Charlotte seemed to want nothing to do with her. She maintained a level of socially acceptable friendliness around the others but it was clear to Laura that Charlotte didn't like her one bit. She couldn't figure out what on earth she had done to make the girl dislike her so much. It didn't help that the witch was absolutely stunning, and super smart, and very very good at magic. She made Laura feel woefully inadequate without even trying.

It wasn't until their second Christmas together that the penny dropped. They were having a boozy Boxing Day lunch and Laura caught Charlotte's Muggle husband staring at his wife with a very odd look on his face. She couldn't quite place it, and she followed his gaze to see that Charlotte was in fact looking in her direction. No, she realised, not at her - next to her. At Albus. And her expression was of… no. No surely not. Her expression was pure - love. Laura felt her stomach drop. Albus for his part was oblivious, making dirty jokes with Uncle George. But now it all made sense - the way Charlotte seemed to hate her, the way she always seemed to show off when they were all together. In front of Albus. Stupid bitch was in love with her husband. Laura couldn't help but feel the other woman was more what Albus deserved than some silly, average little Muggle, and felt her heart slowly breaking.

* * *

It was not long after that when the letter came. It came by Muggle post and Laura had accidentally opened it while Albus was at work, thinking it was the electricity bill. It wasn't. She didn't know how long she had been sitting at the table with it in her hands when Albus arrived home from work. He had been immediately worried when he saw the look on her face, the red around her eyes. She had handed him the letter wordlessly.

Albus read it, his eyes growing wider and wider, and started spluttering. "This is ridiculous! Laura, this is stupid, this is bullshit, what the fuck is this bullshit?!"

Laura spoke quietly, almost coldly. "I think it's pretty clear what it is, Albus. The government and Ministry have realised I'm not a good enough breeding sow. Two years Albus, and it's not like we haven't been trying. I'm only 20 years old. It shouldn't have taken this long. I should have at least one baby by now, we both know it. They've offered to find you a replacement. Better breeding stock. You should take it."

Albus crossed the room to her in quick strides and fell down at her feet, looking up at her. "Laura, no! Look at me! Don't be ridiculous, don't let them get to you like this! I love you! Look at me! I love you, Laura Potter. I honestly never expected this marriage to be so good but I love you and I'm so happy with you. I don't care if you're not pregnant. I don't care about any of that. We'll go see the Healer if you're worried. We'll go see those Muggle doctors who do the baby stuff. If that's what you want. I just want YOU, Laura. And I know you love me too, you do!"

Laura turned her head. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to swap me for someone else, someone more like… like Charlotte?"

"Charlotte? Charlotte?! Great Merlin's wand Laura, no! Is that what this is about? Charlotte?"

"She's in love with you Albus, you can see it when she looks at you. She treats me like garbage. She wants you. You'd be better off with her anyway."

"Laura, no, that's enough of this, stop it. I do NOT want to be with Charlotte. I admit, I do know that she has feelings for me and she has done for a long time. I'm sorry, I should have been more upfront about that earlier. But I swear to you, I have NEVER felt the same about her. She was like a sister to me when we were younger and I care about her very much, but I've never felt that way about her." He stroked Laura's face with the backs of his fingers and wiped away a tear with his thumb from the corner of her eye. "I've never felt about her the way I feel about YOU, Laura. I love you. I know you have a thing about the magic and stuff, but you do plenty of things that are magic to me. The art you create with your camera is magic. That spaghetti thing you make is friggin magic. And you sure know how to handle my wand pretty good," he winked, and Laura felt a laugh escape despite herself.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I feel like I'm still just waiting to wake up from all this. I've never felt good enough for you."

Albus reached up and kissed her deeply. "I love you, okay?" he said again, pressing his forehead into hers. "Everything else, we'll figure out. Okay?"

She sighed and reached her hands up to stroke his hair. "Okay. I love you too Albus."

* * *

It was dark and the gate creaked open slowly, apparently of its own volition. Laura shivered. This place gave her the creeps. Maybe she shouldn't be here. It wasn't too late to back out... She thought of Charlotte and her adoring eyes, she thought of THAT letter, she thought of all those damn Weasleys laughing and laughing with Albus at some damn magical joke she didn't understand. No. She was doing this. It had taken her months of research and sneaky questions and following leads to finally end up at this place.

She was going to become a witch. She was going to become magic.

She had no idea how, but she had been assured by her contact that it could be done and he knew the person to do it for her. She was going to do this for Albus. She wanted to be a better wife for him. She wanted to be everything he deserved.

The gate was still sitting open, waiting. She took a deep breath and started down the winding driveway towards the dark mansion in front of her. She half expected bats to start flying out of the turrets and shook her head, telling herself to stop being so silly. Halfway up the driveway stood a figure in a robe, his face obscured by a hood. He seemed to be waiting for her.

"This way," he grunted tersely and started to walk. She followed him, butterflies flying loop the loops in her stomach. There was still a lot of the magic world that was unknown to her. That's all this feeling was. Unfamiliarity.

They walked up the sweeping front stairs and entered an intimidating and grandiose entrance room. The hooded figure did not stop but kept walking, so she continued to follow, taking in the opulence around her. The walked for a good few minutes - this place must be HUGE! - and finally into what seemed to be a large study. There was a chandelier on the ceiling, a huge stone fireplace, a forest full of mahogany. The hooded figure stopped.

"She will be here shortly". He went to stand by the fireplace and his demeanour said he was not interested in conversation.

Laura felt her heart beat faster. Who would be here shortly? Obviously it was going to be a woman, which made Laura feel strangely better, safer. This was going to be okay. Right?

Before long, a different door opened, and a woman stepped through. She was also in a dark robe with hood and Laura couldn't see her face. The darkness within the hood seemed fathomless. She had a powerful presence and even Laura felt like she could sense the magic sparking off her in every direction, although she told herself she was imagining it. It seemed to reverberate through her very veins.

Laura felt her stomach twist and flip… and something else. Her eyes widened and she felt her hand reach down to press against her lower abdomen. Surely not? Surely not? She hadn't had her period in a while but she had given up keeping track anyway so she wasn't really sure. Oh God. Being here was a mistake. She was making a huge mistake. No problem, she would just say "thanks for your help but no thanks" and be on her way, right?

She looked towards the door she entered through and realised with bile rising in her throat that the door was no longer there. She looked amid growing panic toward the door the powerful woman had entered through and saw only wall. Her heart started pounding and she turned to look at the hooded female figure.

In that moment, the woman slowly raised her hands and pushed back the hood of her robe. Her hair was wild, thick and tightly curled. It seemed to almost crackle, as if with static electricity. Her skin was pale as snow and her eyes… her eyes gleamed and sparked and seemed almost… red. They were red but not red. Laura couldn't put her finger on it. In fact, her whole presence was confusing. She felt so very powerful, so intimidating - and yet it was somehow as if she were translucent or somehow blurry around the edges - not quite solid, not quite there - but so very present. Laura felt her senses going crazy with confusion and fear. Her hand gripped her lower belly firmly, protectively.

The woman looked at Laura, her eyes glinting.

"And what have we here, Sssssssssstan?" she asked the robed figure, her words seeming to echo and reverberate off the walls.

The man seemed to leer back, even though Laura couldn't see his face.

"Fresh meat," he answered, his voice like gravel.

The woman grinned and it was the most terrifying thing Laura had ever seen.

"Exxxxcellenttttt," she seethed, then threw her head back and barked out two short sharp laughs, "Ha HA!"

Laura trembled. The woman was a maniac.

The woman step towards Laura and looked down at her with a kind of wild glee.

"You will call me, Lady Lestranggggggge," she commanded.

The last syllable seemed to hiss around the room like a snake.

And her eyes burned red like fire.

* * *

 **Review Preference: Positive Constructive Criticism**

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	3. A Marauders' Night's Dream

**Wordsmiths & Betas Marriage Law One Shot Writing Competition**

\- Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. You will find this information at the bottom of each entry. Thank you for reading!

 **Title: A Marauders' Night's Dream**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Romance, Humour**

 **Pairing: James Potter / Lily Evans, Remus Lupin / Sirius Black**

 **Triggers: None**

 **Warnings: Sex, Language**

 **Disclaimer:** All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the authors represented here are profiting from these stories.

* * *

 **A Marauders' Night's Dream**

* * *

"I have to what?" Sirius's jaw hung open, offering up an unappetising view of his half-chewed mouthful of sandwich.

From where he sat beside his best friend, James glowered at Dumbledore. "He has to _what?"_

"In order to provide a measure of protection to Muggle-born witches and wizards, the Ministry has passed legislation that they must find a suitable pureblood match."

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling.

It was not reassuring.

"A sort of 'marriage law', if you will," he said, smoothing a hand over his silvery beard.

"Just...how is that supposed to help anything?" Remus asked quietly from where he leaned against the wall, off to one side. The afternoon sunlight falling through the windows of the Headmaster's office threw his scars into sharp relief against his pale skin.

Dumbledore gave the group of them one of his more inane smiles. "According to ancient wizarding lore, any magical person who marries into a pureblood family becomes, automatically, a pureblood themselves."

"Bullshit," Sirius snorted, apparently forgetting who he was talking to. "I grew up in a houseful of pureblood fanatics and they'd sooner die than have a halfblood, let alone a Muggle-born, marry in." His eyes strayed to Remus, who studiously avoided his gaze, his ears reddening slightly.

James sat back in his chair, listening to his own pounding heartbeat in his ears. Evans couldn't - she _couldn't_ marry Sirius. This was supposed to be the year: the year that he would win her, the year that she would _finally see_. And now to think that all his efforts, all his hard work to actually _make_ something of himself might be wasted, and she would be married to his best friend because the fucking Ministry had enacted some idiotic law...

He glared down at the Head Boy badge that winked stupidly from where it was pinned on his robes.

"Be that as it may…" Dumbledore hummed softly to himself, selecting a sherbet lemon from the bowl that sat on top of his desk. Apparently he didn't feel the need to elucidate further.

"Why Sirius, sir?" James blurted finally, earning himself a bemused look from the Headmaster, and a slantwise scowl from his friend.

James resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Sirius Black, most contrary wizard _ever fucking born_.

"Mr Black is a very ah, _recognisable_ member of pureblood society," Dumbledore said finally, "His marriage to Miss Evans would make a statement to other purebloods of your generation: 'You do not have to toe the family line in order to continue the family line'." He gave a dry little chuckle, "By Merlin, that was rather good, wasn't it?"

"What if I don't want to marry Evans, sir?" Sirius said, making it his turn to be scowled at by James.

 _Who wouldn't want to marry Evans? With her gorgeous hair, wicked smile, those mesmerisingly green eyes and her brilliant laugh, her incredible brea-_

 _Oh_ , James thought as he glanced towards Remus. _The breasts probably have something to do with it, actually._

"Sir," Pete had been so quiet up to this point that James almost jumped when he spoke up from beside him. "Have you - have you asked Lily who she'd like to marry?"

"Merlin's beard, Mr Pettigrew," Dumbledore peered at him over the top of his half-moon spectacles, "Do you think we would just storm ahead without any consultation of the interested parties?"

James bit his tongue before he could say anything that might risk his Head Boy status being summarily removed.

"Miss Evans confessed to having rather a soft spot for Mr Black here, and said that of all the pureblood wizards that she might have to choose from, she thought that he would make the best husband."

Sirius's mouth fell open again as James gave a half-strangled groan of protest. _Fucking Evans_. Pete put a gentle hand on his arm and James couldn't even bring himself to shrug it off.

 _Stupid fucking Evans with her stupid hair and her stupid laugh and her stupid clever brain and her fucking awful marvellous breasts._

"Do I - do I get any say in this, sir?" Sirius asked, his voice sounding oddly off-key.

Dumbledore's expression turned abruptly serious. "The Ministry has created this law in order to try and prevent harm coming to witches and wizards who, like Miss Evans, cannot trace their families back to the Middle Ages," he said coolly. "Flawed though it may be, would you deny your friend any measure of protection that you are able to give?"

James wondered if punching the Headmaster for such a singularly brilliant piece of manipulation would stand any chance of being explained away as congratulatory. He didn't think so, and yet it was _so tempting_.

"Right," Sirius said, sounding dazed. "Right then, I guess…" He looked at Remus again, and this time the other young man held his gaze just a beat too long, something indefinable passing between the pair of them. "I guess that's um…" Sirius frowned, "Why did you need all of us here to hear this?"

A pleasant smile peeped through Dumbledore's flowing beard, "Because I thought it best that you all hear it from me, rather than whatever garbled version of the law makes its way around the rumour mill by dinnertime. Now," he squinted at the astrolabe that twirled about an inch above the surface of his desk, "I think that you should all be running along to Transfiguration, don't you?"

The Marauders trooped down the staircase in gloomy silence, pausing at the bottom to look at one another.

"Well, balls," Sirius said finally, still wearing the same oddly dazed look that had come over him in Dumbledore's office.

" _Fuck_ ," James swore, curling his hand into a fist and punching the nearest inanimate object, which turned out to be the wall.

Unfortunately for the Head Boy, the particular stretch of wall that he had chosen to express his frustration on didn't take too kindly to its maltreatment and James found himself being socked smartly in the jaw by a fist made of granite.

In spite of the blinding pain he managed to make it to Transfiguration with his friends' help, where he spent the next hour being eyed narrowly by McGonagall as he stumbled his way through turning glass into crystal (although honestly he performed fine, because it was Transfiguration, he was James Potter, and _please_ ).

By the time the lesson came to an end the bruise on his jaw had developed a nasty purple colour, and the throbbing ache told him that it was probably fractured.

"Take him to the Hospital Wing, Wormtail, there's a good lad," Sirius said once McGonagall finally released them. "I need to have a word with Moony here."

Remus turned on his heel and frowned, and James groaned internally at the thought of whatever Sirius might have to say. "Just, let's go, Pete," he murmured, his injured jaw making the words oddly slurred.

He hadn't missed the way that Evans had cast lingering glances at Sirius all through the class, or the way that when James had caught her eye she had frowned at him and bitten her lip. James wondered, as Pete steered him towards the Hospital Wing, what Evans had thought had happened.

 _Maybe she thinks I tried to fight Sirius for her._

 _What does he even have that I haven't?_

 _It's like the more I love her, the more she hates me._

 _Maybe she…_

 **X x X**

James was mumbling incoherently to himself and Peter sighed deeply. It was a bloody mess, this stupid Ministry law. He'd almost thought Dumbledore might have been joking, but then he'd overheard a couple of Ravenclaw girls gossiping over their crystal wine glasses about how quiet, nervy Alastair Corner was apparently going to be married to Florence Abbott from Hufflepuff.

Florence Abbott was sweet, and pretty, and came from an old and respected family, and Peter couldn't help the little note of jealous resentment that squirmed inside him. The Pettigrews were hardly Sacred Twenty-Eight, but Peter's parents were at least magical. He'd heard that Corner's father was a greengrocer; had had to ask Lily what a greengrocer even _was_. Peter sighed, feeling guilty at the thought of Lily's teasing laugh.

And even if he _had_ been Sacred Twenty-Eight what did that even mean? Sirius's derisory tone when he spoke about his family caused Peter a sort of sickened awe. He wasn't sure whether it was more because of the casual way that Sirius dismissed his heritage, or because of the unwavering belief in right and wrong which had allowed him to cast off the prestige of the Black name as though it was nothing.

"Every other girl says I'm just as handsome as _Padfoot_ ," James said loudly, out of nowhere, causing Peter to shush him hurriedly. "What?" James said, trying to shrug him off, "What of it, anyway? Evans obviously doesn't think so." He sighed, and rested more of his weight on Peter's shoulder, making him stumble slightly. Prongs was so _bloody tall_.

"She'd probably just say it's not about looks but about personality or something," James went on gloomily, "And I've spent the last six years royally fucking myself on that front."

"Well," Peter demurred, but couldn't really think of much to say that wouldn't be in complete agreement with his friend's assessment. "But would you actually want to _marry_ Lily though, if she'd picked you?"

"Wormtail," James said, "I - ow - bugger it," he clutched his jaw gingerly, then huffed. "I would marry Evans tomorrow, if she asked me. Whether it was to protect her or not. I would marry her _right this second_ , if she wanted me to. She'd only have to ask."

Peter squinted at James, noting the miserable resignation on his face. "Right then," he murmured, his mind whirring into action. "Good to know."

 **X x X**

"You're being a child," Remus said, the points of his cheeks stained crimson.

"How can you - bloody Merlin - how am I being childish by asking you to run away with me?"

Remus stared at him, then laughed softly, "Circe's teeth, Sirius, would you _listen_ to yourself?"

Sirius opened his mouth, paused, frowned and then sighed deeply. "I love you," he said, the words very quiet, his eyes fixed on the floor.

"I know that," Remus said, feeling immediately, horribly, guilty. "And you know how I feel. But you heard Dumbledore - this could keep Lily safe -"

"I'm as much of a target as she is," Sirius snorted, "Blood traitor and all."

"But he was right about the symbolism of it -"

"Fuck the symbolism," Sirius muttered, but the fight seemed to have gone out of him.

It was worse somehow, seeing that, Remus thought, and so he raised his hands to stroke both thumbs across Sirius's slanting cheekbones, leaning his forehead against the other young man's. Before he knew it, Remus heard himself speaking: "We could though - if you wanted - just for a couple of days -"

Sirius leaned his head back sharply, silver eyes boring into Remus's soft green ones. "Run off together?"

Remus gave a half shrug, "It's Friday, isn't it? We know the Forest better than anyone so we could just - for the weekend, you know. Let you get your head around it?"

"Let me get my leg over, you mean?" Sirius grinned at him, but it lacked its usual wicked glint. "Marriage - that bond - you know what it is -"

"I know." Remus swallowed hard, "And you'd need to make sure _Lily_ knows before you do anything official, but you can't - if that's - if it means she'll be safer…"

His voice trailed away, and they looked helplessly at one another.

"Prongs'll never speak to me again," Sirius said, in a moment of uncharacteristic insightfulness.

"If it's what Lily wants, Prongs will march you down the aisle himself," Remus said, and Sirius laughed quietly.

"True," he murmured. "But you'd - we can - the Forest, this weekend?"

"Who's going to the Forest?" Pete asked, appearing at Sirius's elbow and causing the pair of them to leap apart guiltily.

"Fuck _me_ , Wormtail," Sirius yelped. "How the fuck did you find us?"

They were tucked into a large alcove behind the statue of Nadhim the Nefarious, in a little-visited corner of the sixth floor.

Pete produced the Map and waved it under Sirius's nose. "Prongs gave it to me for safekeeping," he said. "Now what's this about going to the Forest?"

"Just, erm," Sirius stuttered, looking to Remus in panic.

The young werewolf rolled his eyes. "It's a big thing, this whole marriage law malarkey, and I said to Sirius if he wanted to blow off some steam we could, uh, spend the weekend in the Forest."

Pete gave him a knowing look. "Sounds great, I'm in. And I'm sure Prongs will be all for it." His watery blue eyes glinted as he watched Remus. _Lie to me,_ Pete's eyes seemed to say, _Go on, see if I don't notice_.

Remus shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "I - er - that is -"

"We were thinking just dogs, Pete," Sirius said, with a nervous edge to his voice.

"Oh, alright then," Pete smiled blithely, and Remus felt a strange whisper of unease.

 **X x X**

"I just can't really believe it's happening," Lily was saying to Marlene McKinnon when Peter slipped into the seat next to her in the Great Hall and started helping himself to steak and kidney pie.

" _I_ can't believe you've managed to snag _Sirius Black_ ," Marlene huffed, stabbing aggressively at her plateful of chicken. "You lucky bitch."

"Congratulations, Lily," Peter smirked, his smile widening as she rolled her eyes good-naturedly at him. "Taming the Black sheep."

"I haven't _tamed_ anyone," she protested. "Sirius and I are friends and if I have to marry a pureblood, better him than bloody James stupid Potter."

"Right," Peter said, exchanging a glance with Marlene. "Good reasoning."

"Shut up," Lily grumbled. "Potter's an idiot."

"There are other purebloods," Marlene said. "It's not just Black or Potter."

"I, for example, am a pureblood," Peter pointed out. Marlene smirked as Lily gawked at him.

"You - but - I -"

"Lily." Peter softened his smile, "I'm not having a go at you. But are you sure you know what you're doing, choosing Sirius?"

"Marriage is - it's for _life_ ," Marlene said.

"I know that," Lily said, her face reddening as she glared into her soup. "Sirius would - it wouldn't be _difficult_ , with him, we get along, we wouldn't _argue_ , he wouldn't be _completely bloody infuriating_ -"

"Are we still talking about Sirius?" Marlene asked, her forehead creasing with confusion.

"Of _course_ we are," Lily shoved herself away from the table, "Who else would we be bloody talking about?"

She grabbed her bag and stalked out of the Great Hall, her furious demeanour attracting curious glances from a few other students.

Marlene popped a potato in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "I don't know why she doesn't just come out with it and say she actually wants James," she said eventually. "But I think she'd see it as some sort of capitulation."

"This whole law is going to end in tears," Peter murmured, and Marlene gave him a sharp look.

"You can see the Ministry's reasoning, even if it is flawed."

"Can you?" he asked. "From where I'm sitting there's at least four people who are going to end up completely miserable because of one half-cocked piece of legislation."

"But if it means Lily will be safer -"

"She'd be safest with James," Peter said firmly. "He'd die for her." He frowned at the remnants of his pie, "If Lily wasn't so stubborn she'd see that and it would all be _fine_."

Marlene was eyeing him nervously, "Pete, what are you -"

"I have to go," he said, standing up quickly. "There's something I need to do."

"Righty ho," Marlene sighed to the empty plate in front of her. "I'll just be off to the library then."

 **X x X**

"Mr Pettigrew!" Professor Slughorn's unctuous voice cut through the still dungeon and Peter looked up at him, face pleasantly bland. "Not like you to put in extracurricular hours."

"I just had something I wanted to look up, Professor," he held out the copy of _Eddlethwaite's Everyday Elixirs_ that he'd found on Slughorn's desk. "All the copies in the library were out but Madam Pince said she thought you might have one. I hope I'm not intruding?" Peter stepped away from the desk, his other hand gripping his bag tightly to ensure the contents didn't clink and give him away.

"Not at all, not at all," Slughorn murmured, eyes straying to the cabinet that an earlier nocturnal expedition by the Marauders had revealed contained a rather nice bottle of honeyed mead.

"Well I'll be going then, sir," Peter said, maintaining his hold on his bag. The vial had been dusty, half-hidden at the back of the cupboard. He'd clocked it during the aforementioned night-time raid on the potions stores, and had filed the observation away for future reference.

Peter was good at noticing things. And he rarely forgot what he'd seen.

 **X x X**

"What do you mean they're buggering off to the Forest?" James asked, thumbing his still-tender jaw. The bruising had all but disappeared but the ache lingered.

Peter shrugged, "They said they wanted some time together."

"But Sirius - if they're running away - he can't just leave Evans in the lurch!"

Peter lifted his hands helplessly. "I mean, if you want to go after them and talk sense into Pads-"

"Too bloody right I do!" James shouted, and Peter winced as McGonagall frowned their way from where she sat at the teachers' table.

"Blimey Prongs," Peter said, "Could you maybe calm down?" He reached over to catch James's shoulder, surreptitiously lifting a hair from his robes. "We'll go after dinner, OK?"

"Go where?" Remus said, sitting down opposite them.

"Where's Padfoot?" James demanded bluntly, shooting daggers at Remus across the table, who had the good grace to look distinctly guilty.

"He's er...he's gone…for a walk?"

"Who has?" said Lily, sliding onto the bench next to Remus. Peter smiled and poured her a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Your _betrothed_ ," James groaned dramatically. "It would seem that he's fucked off to the Forbidden Forest."

"I wish _you_ would fuck off to the Forbidden Forest," Lily muttered, her green eyes narrowing into slits.

"Do you, Evans?" James rose out of his seat and leaned over the table towards Lily. "Well maybe I _will_."

"Good!" Lily said, standing to jab a finger into his face. "Good fucking riddance, James Potter!"

They were both red in the face, noses inches from one another, and though their voices were quiet the intensity of the exchange was attracting attention.

Peter saw Lily's eyes flick down to James's lips, slightly parted and barely a foot from her own. He glanced at Remus, who raised his eyebrows at him as he took a sip of pumpkin juice.

A sip of - Peter looked down at the table with rising horror, then back at Remus, who had a funny little frown on his face as he stared bemusedly at James.

"Prongs," Remus murmured, but James was turning on his heel and striding from the Hall.

"I am done, Evans, you hear me? _Done_ ," he yelled over his shoulder.

"James, wait!" Remus sprang up from the bench, rushing after James's retreating figure.

"Shit," Peter whispered, eyes on the empty goblet that Remus had left standing on the tabletop. "Bye Lily," he called as he jumped up and ran after the pair of them.

Lily stood frozen in confusion for a moment, then gave a frustrated growl and followed them all out.

 **X x X**

James had transformed the moment he was far enough into the Forest not to be seen from the castle, and though Remus could smell him he was nowhere near as fast when not in wolf form.

How had he never noticed how _wonderful_ Prongs smelled? Like cut grass and broom polish and a certain spiciness that was all Prongs and -

"Remus!" Sirius grabbed his arm as he ran past, and Remus nearly growled with annoyance, shoving him away. "Hey, what the hell -"

"I've got to find Prongs, where's Prongs?"

"I'm right here." James stepped into the little clearing, bare shoulders dusky in the autumn moonlight. He was dressed only in his uniform trousers, having obviously, with typical Prongs-ness, cast aside the rest of his clothes before transforming.

" _James_ ," Remus gave a breathy sigh, and flung himself at his friend. "I've found you," he whispered, wrapping his arms around the other man and pressing his lips to his neck.

James flailed in Remus's embrace, "Moony get _off_ me -"

"Remus!" Sirius yelped, "What the -"

"Oh thank Godric, here you all are." Peter's voice was sharp and he bent double as he came stumbling to a stop, resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

"Wormtail." Sirius's voice was tight, his eyes fixed on where James continued to wrestle with Remus, who was now attempting to hook one of his legs around him, lips still suctioned to James's neck. "Any chance you might be able to explain what _the hell_ is going on?"

"Err -" Peter said, staring at the spectacle before him in horrified fascination.

"Pete!" Sirius's bark snapped him back to attention, and Peter shot him a sheepish look.

"There is a chance - that is to say - possibly -"

"Spit it out Pete, for fuck's sake - NO, MOONY, STOP -"

"What the actual fuck is this?"

The three _compos mentis_ Marauders turned to gape at Lily as she appeared at the edge of the clearing, face set in an expression of stony disapproval.

"Well, Wormtail?" Sirius's face was murderous, arms folded and mouth forming a thin line.

Peter's face spasmed with dread, "Remus might have accidentally drunk some pumpkin juice that I'd spiked with a lust potion."

James clamped his hand over Remus's mouth as he forced him into a headlock. "He might have _what_?"

"Lust potion," Peter whispered, "But it was supposed to be for Lily!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Lily whirled on him, eyes catching the moonlight and flashing dangerously.

"You can't marry Sirius!" Peter yelled back, "Not when James is in love with you!"

"When - wait, what?" Lily turned to stare at James, who had, in his shock, released his hold on Remus, who pounced on him once more.

"Oh Godric Prongs, your hair is so soft," he crooned, reaching up and curling his fingers in it.

"I don't fucking _believe_ this," Sirius growled, pulling his wand from his pocket. " _Stupefy!"_

Remus slumped against James, who caught him and lowered his prone form gently to the ground, not moving his eyes from Lily's.

"You," she breathed, "You - me -"

"You little shit, Wormtail," Sirius's harsh voice cut through the clearing as he turned his wand on Peter.

"I was trying to help!" Peter yelled. "You'd have married Lily because of your idiotic honour code and you'd both have been bloody _hopeless!_ She only chose you because she's too proud to admit she'd prefer James -"

"Wait, what?" James cut in weakly, but Peter was on a roll now.

"And then Remus would have been completely heartbroken because the two of you can't just come out with it and say you're in love with one another -"

Sirius paled visibly, "How did you -"

"EVERYONE KNOWS, PADFOOT," Peter bellowed, finally losing his temper, and then immediately shooting a guilty look at Lily. "Well. Almost everyone."

"You are?" Lily asked, her voice sharpening into a little squeak. "And you'd have - you were going to -"

"Lils," Sirius ran a hand over his face. "You're my friend, and if you need me to do something to protect you then I will."

"But - but _Remus_ ," she said, lamely.

"That," Peter sighed, "is my point exactly."

"A lust potion though, Pete?" James asked, tangling his hands in his hair in frustration, " _Really?_ "

With both his arms up and his trousers riding low on his hips, the position showed off James's chiselled torso to its best advantage. Peter heard Lily made a quiet whimpering noise as he grimaced, "I just thought, a little push, you know -"

"Oh well fucking _done_ , Wormtail, what a _fantastic_ plan." Sirius's voice dripped sarcasm, but the venom had left his tone and he sounded mostly tired. "This is why you aren't the ideas man."

Peter glared at him for a moment, his expression twisted under the pale light into a scornful sneer. "Right, Padfoot," he said quietly. "Because your ideas are always so very brilliant."

Neither of them noticed Lily stepping towards James, who was watching her warily. "Is it true?" she asked softly.

"Is what -" James paused, swallowed; licked his dry lips, "Is what true?"

"What Peter said." She was stood very close to him now.

"Well Padfoot does tend to have some fairly idiotic ideas -"

"James."

His eyes scanned over her face, and he seemed suddenly to realise that he was half naked, folding his arms over his chest self-consciously. "It, erm," he made a face, "It might be true, yeah."

Lily blinked, one hand rising so that her fingers rested on her lips. Hesitantly, she reached forward with the other and laid her palm against the smooth muscle of James's stomach.

He sucked in a breath, staring at her, and then smiled a slow, brilliant smile.

 **X x X**

"You really are one to talk, Wormtail, I mean _Merlin's bollocks,_ what if it hadn't been Remus, huh? What if it had -"

"Sirius."

"Yes I _am_ serious, this could have gone even _more_ fucking pear-shaped and then what would we have -"

" _Sirius._ "

"For Godric's sake Wormtail you have to admit -"

"SIRIUS!" Peter shouted, and finally the other young man shut up, staring at his usually quiet friend.

Peter sighed. "Where are James and Lily?"

Sirius gaped at the corner of the clearing where Remus's stupefied form now lay alone; if they hadn't just been screaming at one another Peter would have laughed at the expression of total befuddlement on Sirius's usually composed face.

It didn't last long however, and when Sirius looked back at him it was with a gleam of mischievous complicity in his silver eyes.

"Well, my Wormy little friend," Sirius gave a disbelieving chuckle, "It would seem that your absurd plan might have worked after all."

Peter gawked at him for a moment before he, too, started to giggle at the ridiculousness of the whole thing.

 **X x X**

"Evans," he murmured against her mouth, "Evans wait -"

"Why?" she asked, leaning away from him and frowning in confusion.

Her lips were swollen and dark in the moonlight and James nearly groaned with frustration as he tried to assemble a faint vestige of gallantry. He scrunched his eyes closed to avoid getting distracted by the witch in his arms.

"You said you wanted to marry Sirius but if you - this - with me -" he took a deep breath, "You'd have to marry me, Evans, for this law. If we do this, you'd have to marry me and you shouldn't - I don't want to -"

There was a beat of silence and James squinted one eye open. Lily's lips were pursed and she was eyeing him sceptically, her hands resting on his biceps. "You don't want to what?" she said finally, and James sighed.

"I don't want to force you into that, Lily," he said quietly. "If you have to marry someone it should be someone you think you can actually live with -"

"You twat, Potter," she whispered, but she was smiling, her eyes were dancing and James felt hope rise up in his chest and make his heart race and his palms tingle and -

"I'd rather live with you and spend half my time wanting to kill you," she murmured, rising up on her tiptoes to brush her lips over his again, "Than be forced into some sham of a marriage by my own pride and the Ministry's idiocy."

James grinned against her mouth as he kissed her again, as he tangled his fingers in her beautiful hair the way he'd wanted to since he was twelve years old and he'd looked over at her in Charms one day and suddenly just _seen_.

Lily's breaths were coming in short little pants against his mouth, and as she swept her hands up the bare skin of his back James dared to move one of his own from her waist to palm her breast, thumbing her nipple into a hard little bead underneath the soft cotton of her blouse.

"Oh my god," Lily moaned, "Oh my god, _James_."

She slipped her hands back down, and then they were below his waistband, cupping his arse, and Lily drew her head back, smiling quizzically at him. "You aren't wearing any underwear," she said. "Actually," her eyes moved down his chest before returning to his face as one of her eyebrows raised, "You aren't really wearing much _at all_."

"Yeah," James said breathlessly, "Yeah, about that -"

"I'm not complaining," Lily said, as one of her hands found his already half-hard cock and stroked it.

"Fu-uck," James choked, "Fucking - Merlin -"

"I prefer Lily," she whispered, before her tongue slipped across his and James found himself kissing her forcefully, hands grasping her thighs and lifting her, spinning to press her against a tree.

Lily's gasp sounded almost pained and he pulled back, gazing at her with concern. "Are you sure about this, Evans?"

She made a noise that was half-laugh, half-growl. "This, Potter?" She squeezed her thighs and arched her spine so that the heat of her centre rubbed against him, and James buried his moan in her neck. Lily's lips were soft on his ear as she wove her fingers into his hair and started to tug his mouth up to hers once more, "This is called _consent_."

James was fairly certain that he was fumbling, that he was rushing things, that the sheer impossibility of having actual Lily Evans in his arms, moaning his name, was throwing off any possibility of smoothness on his part. But he had her blouse open, and he had her beautiful, rosebud nipple in his mouth.

He had the dig of her fingernails in his shoulder when his hand completed its journey north to the apex of her thighs.

He had the sigh of her name on his tongue when he slipped two fingers into the hot, wet perfection of her.

He had his teeth on the lovely, pale column of her throat as she pushed his trousers down, as he nudged his cock against her.

"Are you sure, Evans?" he whispered, running his tongue over the marks left by his teeth on her neck.

"You'll have to call me Potter," her laugh ruffled his hair, breathy and soft.

"Huh?" James's head was spinning, barely able to process the idea that he was about to lose his virginity to _Lily bloody Evans_. James was no innocent: he'd had his share of encounters behind the quidditch pitch and in broom cupboards but he'd always stopped short of this - and _this_ \- this was Lily _bloody_ -

She murmured a quick charm, shimmied against him and then slid herself down his length. James heard himself make a choking gasp, heard Lily echo it as he thrust upwards into her.

"Potter - oh - oh my - _yes_ \- you'll have to call me - god, _James_ \- when we're married -"

"Marry me," he groaned, "Marry me, Evans, _Godric_ -"

"Potter you - oh -" she tugged his hair, clenched herself around him. "You twat, of course, _of course_ I'll marry you and then - _aah"_

It was a lovely sound, a sound he wanted to hear more of and so he rolled his hips upwards again, tasting the shape of the noises she made as he licked his tongue into her mouth.

Too soon, too quickly, he could feel himself getting close, and he slipped a hand in between them, rubbing her clit in time with his thrusts, a slight warming charm on his fingers. Suddenly Lily tightened, whimpering, and then he felt the shivering pulse of her muscles around him and James came with a shuddering gasp, squeezing his eyes shut as he saw white.

He slid down to his knees, Lily still astride him. She lifted his chin and James kissed her, stunned and smiling and sated but still wanting more, more, wanting all of her -

Lily broke the kiss, pressing her lips to his cheek, to his nose, to the fading bruise on his jaw. "Lily Potter," she breathed, "You'll have to call me Lily Potter, when we're married."

"You'll always be Evans to me, Evans."

 **X x X**

"Look," Peter said, "Look."

"I'm looking, Mr Pettigrew." McGonagall's voice was dry as a bone.

"OK," he murmured, "I can explain."

"Can you though, Pete?" Sirius smirked from behind him.

Peter resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He had rescued them from their idiocy and were they fucking grateful?

"There is a possibility that the lust potion was a step too far," he admitted.

"Really?" said Lily, "You _really_ think so?"

Peter's eyes fell on her hand, fingers twined with James's. _You're welcome, by the way._

"Remus is fine!" he exclaimed, gesturing to where Moony leaned against Sirius's side.

The werewolf grimaced. "I will be fine," he said, "Once I feel up to scourgifying my tongue."

"That's quite enough of that, Mr Lupin," McGonagall said briskly. "I do not want to know more than I need to about this little sylvan _adventure_ of yours."

Peter sighed and dropped his head into his hands. _Of course_ it would have been McGonagall who caught them sneaking back from the Forest. _Of course_ he would be expected to justify himself here and now.

He sat there, between his four best friends, and felt suddenly very alone.

"I'm sorry, alright?" he said. "It wasn't particularly well thought through, but I just had to do _something_ before someone else -" here he eyeballed Lily, who blushed "- did something REALLY stupid."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes at all of them. "Very well," she said eventually. "Twenty points each from Gryffindor from being out of bounds after curfew."

"Professor!" James started, "Come on, you -"

"I would expect better from _you,_ Mr Potter," McGonagall said sharply, "and from you as well, Miss Evans." Lily's flush deepened. "Head Boy and Head Girl, I never…"

McGonagall's eyes lit upon their joined hands and her expression became one of almost feline satisfaction. "Well," she said after a moment. "Head Boy and Head Girl. I shall have to inform the Headmaster." She smiled slightly, "It will make a lovely story for your children."

"Oh my god," Lily said, dropping her face into James's shoulder. He snickered and leaned his cheek against her hair.

"Right then," Sirius said, yawning and stretching his arms upwards before dropping one around Remus's shoulders in a gesture that held far less casual camaraderie than he apparently thought. "It would appear that I am a free agent once again."

"Yes, Mr Black," McGonagall's tone turned bitingly ironic. "Until the next Muggle-born witch comes knocking." Sirius blanched, fingers tightening reflexively on Remus's upper arm.

Their Head of House looked back at Peter, and frowned slightly. "I don't doubt your intentions, Mr Pettigrew," she said quietly, "But there is a muggle aphorism that would apply here."

Peter wrinkled his nose and watched McGonagall's gaze cool. "But perhaps, enough of that," she said. "You will serve a detention for stealing from Professor Slughorn's stores," Peter hung his head, accepting his fate. "And please, Mr Pettigrew," her exasperation wasn't tempered by the amusement that her voice held when admonishing the others, "Try and just _think_ a little more next time."

He nodded, biting his tongue, hating the others for not speaking up for him, but then James clapped him on the shoulder. "Alright old man," he said quietly, "Let's get back to the Tower, shall we?"

They filed out of McGonagall's office, suitably chastised but not nearly as miserable as the troupe that had left Dumbledore's earlier in the day.

"Going to be awkward to explain to everyone," James said eventually, after they had all shuffled their feet and looked bashfully at one another for a few seconds. "Evans throwing you over for me, that is." He looked at Sirius, gauging his reaction.

"I doubt anyone will be that surprised," Remus said mildly. "You are much better suited to one another."

Sirius affected offense, "How _dare_ you, Moony, wound my poor, fragile ego -"

"You can thank me whenever you like," Peter interjected, trying to keep his annoyance from making its way into his voice. "For, you know, making sure you didn't all get your hearts broken."

James grinned, ruffling the back of his hair with the hand that wasn't circled about Lily's waist. "Maybe you should be best man at the wedding, mate," he said, and Peter experienced a moment of joyful surprise before -

"Prongs, you already swore that we would _all_ be your best men," Sirius said. "I don't think I could take any further disappointment after having been cast off by your delightful fiancée." He grinned evilly at Lily, who rolled her eyes at him.

Peter tried to smile, tried to hide his disappointment, but obviously something showed on his face because Lily sighed and stepped away from James. "I might not like the way you went about it, Pete," she said, "But you _did_ stop me from doing something thoroughly stupid -"

"Let the record state that I object to that phrasing," Sirius said, before Remus got his hand around his mouth.

"- so _thank you_ ," Lily finished, rolling her eyes at Sirius even as she wrapped her arms around Peter.

"Well I'm glad you don't think marrying me is stupid," James murmured from behind them, and Lily pulled away from Peter to cast an eye over her newly-minted fiancé.

"I never said that." She smiled mischievously. "I still think you're an idiot."

James made a choking noise of objection, and Lily squeezed Peter's hand before she dropped it to turn and loop her arms around James's neck. "But now you're _my_ idiot," she said, cocking her head to look up at him. "Reckon you can keep me safe, oh pureblood husband of mine?" she teased.

"That, or die trying," James replied, grinning wide and bright and delighted.

* * *

 **Review Preference: Any**

Thank you for reading through this entry, please read through the other entries and use the form in the facebook group to cast your vote.


	4. A Moon, and Its Sun

**Wordsmiths & Betas Marriage Law One Shot Writing Competition**

\- Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. You will find this information at the bottom of each entry. Thank you for reading!

 **Title: A Moon, and Its Sun.**

 **Rating: T**

 **Genre: Romance, Fluff**

 **Pairing: Remus Lupin / Hermione Granger**

 **Triggers: None**

 **Warnings: None**

 **Disclaimer:** All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the authors represented here are profiting from these stories.

* * *

 **A Moon, and Its Sun.**

* * *

It had been a little over one year since the end of the war. How did the Ministry celebrate the victory and defeat of Voldemort? They implemented a marriage law, with the goal of replenishing the wizarding world after so many losses.

The announcement was made on the anniversary of the end of the war, through the Daily Prophet, declaring that all single wizards and witches under the age of 40 shall be married to a match provided by the Ministry. The announcement also described that they would have two months to complete their union, after receiving their owls June 1st, declaring the identity of their match. Hermione, finally admitting defeat in finding any loophole in the law, sat down at the table with Harry and Ginny in silence, as they anxiously held their Ministry letters and waited for Ron to show up. The trio had promised each other they'd wait to open their letters until they were all together.

Lost in her own apprehension, Hermione heard the familiar _whoosh_ of the Floo and jumped in her seat as she realised Ron had arrived. Wiping the soot off of his clothing, Ron joined them at the table, letter in hand, and nervously said, "Ready then?"

"Open them all at once?" Hermione questioned.

"Right," Harry replied.

Looking around at each other, they all reluctantly opened their letters.

Ginny jumped out of her seat in excitement and wrapped her arms around Harry, kissing him repeatedly on the face. _Of course they got placed together_ , Hermione thought. She felt slight relief to see them paired, as it gave her hope that at least the Ministry had put thought into the match-making.

Hermione noticed Ron's ears had turned bright red, and suddenly felt a pit of worry in her stomach for her friend.

"Well?" Harry questioned, looking over at Ron.

"L-luna Lovegood." Ron stuttered, with a shocked expression on his face.

They were unable to decipher if Ron's shock was good or bad until he pushed his chair back and buried his face in his hands. "How am I possibly expected to marry Luna!?" he whined, "Crazy, that one is!"

Ginny, frustrated at her brother's outburst, shouted, "Oh, none of that Ron! You could do a lot worse than Luna Lovegood!"

Temporarily hushed by his sister, Ron turned his attention to Hermione, as if to clue her in that she was next. "Go on then," he said, "Who did you get?"

Looking down at the parchment in her hands, Hermione whispered, "Remus Lupin."

* * *

Bouncing Teddy on his knee, Remus was too distracted and lost in sorrow to have noticed the tawny owl that swooped in the window and dropped a letter on the coffee table. Andromeda however, who was cleaning in the kitchen, did notice the owl, and gave it a few scraps of food before the bird decided to peck at anything breakable. She picked up the letter, and once she noticed the Ministry seal, she felt suddenly uneasy as she brought it over to Remus. Although she didn't want to believe it was true, she had heard the news about the marriage law the Ministry had implemented. She found it hard to believe that her son-in-law would be subject to the new requirement.

"This is addressed to you," she stated as she handed Remus the sealed letter, sitting down on the sofa and taking Teddy from his arms.

After Tonks' death and the end of the war, Remus and Teddy had moved into his forest cottage. Being a single father was never in his plan, but he was trying as hard as he could to keep it together for Teddy. He promised himself that he would not let his wife down. Remus and Teddy spent a lot of time at Andromeda's house, and she helped raise the teal-haired boy.

"For me?" he questioned, "I wonder what-"

Remus wasn't able to finish his sentence as he felt his heart sink down to his stomach, when he recognised the Ministry seal.

"No," he stated flatly. "No."

Andromeda took Teddy in to the other room and put him down for his afternoon nap. She returned to see Remus sitting in the same position, staring at the envelope addressed to him.

"Remus," she said sombrely. "You need to open it. Once you open it, we can figure out what to do next."

Hesitantly he opened the envelope, slowly pulling out the parchment, to reveal a name that would alter his life forever.

Andromeda sat patiently waiting for some sort of reaction from Remus. She startled as he promptly flew from his seat and grabbed his coat. Before she could even get a word out at him, he rushed out the door, and she heard the familiar crack of Disapparation. She picked up the parchment he tossed down, and read the name written in clear black ink: _Hermione Granger_.

* * *

Remus found his footing as he landed a few minute walk away from Harry's home, where he knew Hermione would be. He had absolutely no clue what he was going to say to her. _How could the Ministry pair the two of us, I am almost twice her age!_ He thought to himself. Nearly reaching Number 12 Grimmauld Place, he paused on the footpath as he noticed Hermione sitting in the window on the second floor, with her arms wrapped around her knees and her face sunk into them. _Disgust. Embarrassment. Fright._ Three words that came to mind as he imagined what she was feeling in that moment. The thought of it made his heart ache.

Channelling the last ounce of Gryffindor courage he could muster, he walked up to the door and knocked.

* * *

Ron had flooed home to give the news to his parents. Ginny and Harry sat on the bed watching Hermione as she sat in the window nook, unknowing of what to say that could ease the situation. Ginny got up and offered to go make them all some tea, and Harry nodded with understanding, that she was really giving the two of them time to talk alone.

"Hermione," he said softly. "Talk to me."

"How could they pair us Harry?" she questioned. "How could I? It's just wrong, Harry. Tonks…"

Harry knew that she wasn't dismissing Remus in general, as he was a good friend of theirs, and her match could have been much worse. Like getting paired with Crabbe or Goyle… But that the worry and pain stemmed from the fact that Remus was a single father, one who was still lost in the sadness of losing his wife. He didn't have any consoling words, so he simply walked over and held his friend in a hug, as she sobbed into his shoulder.

The two of them turned their heads as Ginny entered the room again. "Hermione," she said gently. "He's here. Downstairs."

"Oh no. What am I going to do? I don't know what to say to him," Hermione said in a whispered panic.

"Do you want me to tell him you're not ready to talk to him?" Harry questioned.

"No," Hermione said. "That will likely make things more awkward than they already are."

Hermione got up and checked herself in the mirror, drying her eyes before walking downstairs to see him: her former professor, school-girl crush, fellow battle mate, friend, and the man she was now supposed to marry.

* * *

Practically shaking with anxiety, thinking that it was a terrible mistake putting Hermione on the spot by showing up the way he did, Remus was feeling like he was about to vomit. He heard the steps on the stairwell creak from above him, and looked up to see Hermione walking toward him.

"Hello, Hermione," he said as he reached out his hand to lead her down the stairs into the sitting room near the fire.

"Hello professor Lupin, er um Lupin," she stammered as she sat on the opposite side of the sofa from him.

"You can call me Remus, Hermione. I think we've officially passed the boundary of calling each other by proper names," he joked nervously.

"Okay… Remus," she replied, as a slight blush formed on the apples of her cheeks.

"I'm assuming by your demeanor, that you have not found any loopholes to the law?"

"No, there is none. I've spent weeks researching. The Ministry was quite thorough."

Remus paused in thought before he grabbed her hand, and faced her. "Hermione, I-" he whispered and looked down as he held back tears.

"Remus, please don't," Hermione pleaded. "Don't say anything. How could the Ministry do this Remus!? You already have a wife. I can't. I won't do this to you."

"Do this to me?" he questioned. "You never asked for this either, Hermione. You didn't ask to be forced into marrying a single father. Someone who is twice your age. A werewolf…"

"Don't do that," she protested. "This has nothing to do with you being a werewolf. I have always known that, and it never stopped me from-" she cut herself off.

Hermione could see the tears well up in his eyes, as he turned away from her to hide his pain. Her instinct took over, she slid closer and placed her hand on his arm, "Remus, everything will be okay."

"I don't know how to do this. I can't do this to you, Hermione. And Teddy, he lost his mum and will be so confused. I lost my…." he trailed off.

Hermione didn't know how she was holding it together; perhaps because she felt that he was feeling weaker than she was at the moment. "I know Remus, and nothing will ever take her place, or her memory from you," she said softly.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said as he nodded sadly in response.

"Don't apologise. Honestly. None of us expected for things to be this way," she replied.

Minutes of silence had passed before he broke the quiet that filled the room. "Can I come by again soon? Together we will figure this out."

"Of course, together," she replied.

* * *

It had been over a week before she heard from Remus again. She was reading in her window nook, when an owl tapped on the glass. She promptly opened it, and instantly recognised the handwriting on the letter as Remus'.

 _Hermione,_

 _It has taken me a while to reach out again, and for that I am sorry._

 _This week is the school's last Hogsmeade weekend for the year, would you care to join me?_

 _I'll be at the Three Broomsticks, Saturday at two, if you're available._

 _\- Remus_

* * *

Saturday had arrived much faster than Hermione could stomach. She was unbelievably nervous to meet Remus. Not sure if it was because of the weight of their situation, the fact that it was her first time meeting him anywhere, or a combination of both, but she shook as she lifted her wand to her hair and used a charm that Ginny had taught her to tame her curls. Once she was ready, she bid Harry and Ginny goodbye, stepped out the front door, and apparated into Hogsmeade near the Three Broomsticks.

As she opened the door to the pub and looked around, Hermione looked to the back and noticed Remus stand to greet her. She walked back to his table and he grabbed her chair, ushering her to her seat, before he sat back down.

"Thank you for meeting me, Hermione," he stated, "I honestly wasn't sure you'd show up."

"What? Why?" she questioned. "Of course I came."

He smiled at her behind a sad look on his face, and she knew he was trying, even though he clearly felt heartbroken.

"Like you, I haven't found any loopholes in the Ministry's law," he said quietly.

"Yes, they were quite certain to make sure no one could get by," she replied. "We don't need to worry about that right now Remus. Why don't we focus on being friends?"

He paused for a minute before a small genuine smile brightened his face, and he said, "Friends," as he nodded in response.

"How is it having your old job back?" she changed the subject, questioning him of his position as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts.

"I'm quite grateful that Headmistress McGonagall offered me the position," He replied. "It feels strange this time, compared to before. I get to truly focus on teaching all areas of defence, rather than trying my best to help prepare everyone for a war that was happening."

"Do you live there, at Hogwarts, with your son?" she asked.

"Oh no. We live at our cottage," he responded. "My floo is connected to my office at Hogwarts. And Teddy stays with Andromeda while I am at work. She has been really helpful. You should come by sometime… to the cottage. You could see Teddy, I know it's been quite a while."

"I'd like that," she said bashfully.

"I want to apologise for taking so long to reach out," he said, looking guilty. "It's no excuse. The full moon was last week and it was a bit rough. It has been ever since Professor Snape's death."

Hermione gasped! "Oh Remus!" she squeaked. "Wolfsbane. How could you not let anyone know? Surely someone at the school could brew it. Right? You must have been feeling terrible all this time."

"I'm sure someone could eventually." He replied. "However, it is a really difficult potion that takes a great deal of skill and effort to complete. I don't have the heart to ask someone to make that sort of commitment. And I was never that great at potions."

Hermione's heart sank. She didn't know how to respond after thinking of the hard times he has endured over the last year with no Wolfsbane. She felt a lump in her throat as she filled with sorrow for her friend.

"Would you like to walk to the book shop with me?" he asked, ending the quiet.

"Yes, of course," she replied with a soft smile. "I'd love to."

They stood, and Remus held his arm out for Hermione. She shyly put her arm through his, and they left the Three Broomsticks, headed for Flourish and Blotts. They walked in content quiet, and when they made it to the book shop, that changed as they were both in their element, like children in a candy store. Two hours later they were finally making it out of the shop, each with a bag in hand.

As they made it back to the busy streets of Diagon Alley, Remus turned to Hermione and said, "Thank you for today, Hermione. It's the first time I've been out in a while."

She quickly reached up and embraced Remus in a big hug. "Thank you! I had a lovely time," she replied. "Shall we meet up again soon?"

Shocked at her reaction, Remus just stood there awkwardly as she hugged him. "Uhm, yes, well…" he stuttered. "That sounds fine to me."

* * *

Hermione should have known that the second she walked in the door, that Ginny would still be at Harry's place, waiting for her arrival. Ginny was never one to wait long for all the details.

"Tell. Me. Everything." Ginny demanded excitedly.

"It was really nice," Hermione replied.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me, Hermione. You know I won't settle for vagueness," Ginny said as she rolled her eyes. "Come, sit. I'll get tea, and you start talking."

"Well I don't know what you want me to say," Hermione replied nonchalantly. "We sat, drank butterbeer, talked about what we have been doing lately, and about Teddy of course, he held my arm as we walked to Flourish and Blotts-"

"Of course you two would go to a book shop," Ginny interrupted, handing her a cup of tea. "Wait, you linked arms!?"

"It was nothing like what I assume you're thinking," Hermione interjected. "It was just friendly. He's different now."

"How do you mean?" Ginny questioned.

"He's sad," she replied sombrely. "Broken."

"Oh, that's so heartbreaking."

"I know."

* * *

Remus returned to Andromeda's to pick up Teddy. As soon as he walked in, the teal-haired boy ran up to him and jumped into his arms while squealing with happiness.

"How was it?" Andromeda asked cheerfully.

"It was hard, but good," he replied.

"I understand," she nodded. "How is Harry doing?"

"Uhm, I'm not sure," he replied. "I didn't see Harry, I met Hermione at the Three Broomsticks. Ouch!" he shrieked when he received a smack on his arm from Andromeda. "What was that for!?"

"You made the girl meet you?!" she shrieked. "You don't have any manners do you, Remus!?"

"You know, for an old woman, Andromeda, you sure have a mean punch!" he smirked.

"You better watch yourself, Remus!" she grinned. "Before I hex you all the way out the door!"

Remus laughed at his mother-in-law before he looked down and his mood changed. "I don't know how to do this, 'Dromeda," he spoke quietly. "I can't. It's too soon."

Andromeda sat down next to him on the sofa. "It's always too soon to lose your wife, love," she replied softly as she took him in a hug. "Everything will be okay."

Tears fell down both of their faces.

* * *

A couple Sundays later, Hermione was chatting with Harry and Ginny, when they heard a knock on the front door. Instantly curious, because most people just used the Floo, Ginny bounced out of her seat and skipped to the door. Hermione glanced over at Harry, who was beet red, and acting nervous.

"What did you do!?" she whispered to him.

"Don't hate me," he pleaded. "I kind of told Remus you weren't busy today."

"Oh, Harry!" she screeched. "You sneak!" A bright blush built on her face.

"Hermione!" Ginny chirped as she came back in the room. "Someone is here to see you!"

"Sorry to interrupt your day, Hermione," Remus said as he followed in behind Ginny, with a small smile on his face. "I was wondering if you might join me for a while today?"

"Hello, Remus," Hermione replied. "Of course."

She gathered her things and followed Remus toward the Floo. She was surprised to hear him clearly say _Lupin Cottage,_ before being enveloped in green flame. She glanced at Harry and Ginny, they shrugged their shoulders at her out of interested confusion, and she stepped into the fireplace. Hardly a moment later, and she was wiping soot off of her clothing as she stepped into the living room in Remus' cottage. Glancing up, she suddenly realised how close she was to him, looking into his blue eyes. Brought out of her daze, she asked, "What are we doing here?"

"I have something I wanted to show you," he smiled at her. "I think you'll like it."

Her curiosity peaked as she followed him down the hallway, into his study. When they walked in the room, nothing specific stood out to her. "What is here?" she asked him.

Remus walked over to a tall old bookshelf against the wall opposite of them. He pushed it from the side and it moved to reveal a room beyond it. He smiled and she moved forward to see what the bookshelf had concealed.

As she walked into the hidden room, she was instantly overwhelmed with the sight of books everywhere. From the ground up, there were rows of them covering the entire room. The books were stacked so high, that old wooden ladders with wheels were placed in various spots around the room, in order to reach all the levels. A domed glass ceiling exposed the clear-blue sky above. There was a stone fireplace at the far end of the room, and next to it sat two cosy sofas, perfect for lounging to read.

"Wow," she breathed out. "How?!"

"An extension charm," he explained with bright eyes.

"Oh, of course," she replied. "This is really brilliant. Truly amazing, Remus."

"You can come here any time you'd like," he said excitedly. "I know Grimmauld Place has a library. But I imagine you have gone through the entire thing already."

"Well, that and half of the books I wouldn't dare touch if I don't want some sort of residual magic to hex me!" she responded. They both laughed at the truth of her statement.

* * *

After Hermione left that evening, Remus felt so unsure of himself. It had been a long time since he had felt any warmth at all, not since he lost his wife. He felt plenty of love as a father, but even that wasn't enough to make him whole again. For the first time in a long while, he felt a slither of happiness. And that made him feel guilty.

* * *

It was summer hols now, so Hermione wasn't sure why she hadn't heard from Remus lately. She decided to go to his cottage, in hopes of spending some more time with him before they were forced to get married. She felt awkward about floo'ing in, so she apparated into the forest near his cottage.

A while later, she was finally walking up the stone path to the cottage, and could hear the laughs of a little child. She stopped in her tracks, about to turn around and head back, when a little teal-haired boy stumbled up to her squealing. He flopped into her arms, with the biggest smile on his face. She looked up to see Remus walking toward them wearing a surprised look.

"Hello, Hermione," Remus said softly.

"Hi, Remus," she replied, smiling. "I decided to take you up on your offer of letting me stop by the library." Nerves and excitement suddenly filled her entire body.

"Of course," he smiled. "Come on, Teddy, let's go show Hermione inside."

She followed them in, and back to the library, where she pretended to look around for something to read while Remus went to get some tea.

"Book, book!" Teddy said, as he wobbled over to Hermione.

"You want me to read to you, cutie?" she questioned.

"Book!" he squealed in delight.

Remus walked back into the room a few minutes later, to see Teddy sitting on her lap. She was reading to him and he was soaking up her every word as he lay against her shoulder. Remus' heart sunk, and he felt mixed emotions that varied between delight and sadness. After she finished reading the story, he took Teddy to his room for bedtime.

Hermione heard noise coming from down the hall and walked over toward Teddy's room, where she saw Remus sitting in a rocking chair, holding his son and singing, 'Hush, little baby.' After Remus laid him down, he met Hermione in the hallway. "He won't go to sleep without someone singing to him," he told her as he pushed away a strand of hair that had fallen in her face.

Confused by the touch she blushed again, as she headed toward fireplace. "Well I better be going," she suggested. "It's getting late."

"Can I take you out?"

"Like, a date?"

"Yes, like a date, Hermione," he responded and smiled nervously.

She walked into the floo, with a handful of powder, and shook her head yes before disappearing into the green flame.

* * *

The weekend had arrived, and Hermione stood in front of the mirror, as she re-checked her reflection multiple times.

"You look great, Hermione. Don't be so nervous!" Ginny told her. "Besides, you need to get over those nerves soon. You two only have about a month left to seal the deal."

"Thanks for that, Gin'." Hermione glared at her. "You're so helpful."

Ginny shrugged her shoulders at her. They heard a quick knock on the bedroom door before Harry popped inside. "He's here, Hermione," he told her.

Hermione nodded and walked downstairs to meet her date. As she neared the bottom, she saw Remus standing there, wearing denim jeans and a plaid button-up shirt, looking very Muggle. _And very handsome she might add_. The thought shook her and a blush crept up on her once again; she realised was happening a lot lately. He held out a bouquet of white orchids. _How did he know these were my favourite?_ she pondered. Handing the flowers over for Ginny to put in a vase, she grabbed hold of the hand Remus held out for her, and felt the familiar pull of disapparation.

* * *

She found her grounding and noticed he had taken her to Muggle London. Remus held out his arm and she linked hers with him as they walked into public view from their apparition spot. He led her into a bright, daylight-filled restaurant where the waiter placed them at a table distanced from others around them. They filled their time with little amounts of small talk, and mostly silence, which Hermione decided to break.

"How have you been? How are you feeling about the law?" she questioned, bringing up the unaddressed topic that they couldn't avoid forever.

"I have been okay, just facing each day as it comes." Remus responded. "How about you?"

"The same," she replied, not knowing whether she was ready to talk about it more. "Where is Teddy?"

"Andromeda is watching him for the day," Remus answered. "She is very helpful with Teddy."

"That's really great," she said. "Do you come to Muggle London often?"

"No, not really," he said. "My mother was a Muggle, but growing up I didn't spend much time in the muggle world because of my condition."

"Oh," she said softly.

"What is something you have always wanted to do, but haven't?" Remus asked, changing the subject.

"Hmm. I always wanted to try skydiving," she responded enthusiastically.

"Hah! No wonder you were sorted into Gryffindor over Ravenclaw," he laughed.

"Well, it may sound silly, but I have always wanted to have my own cheesy scene from a movie. Like taking off on a romantic adventure, dancing in the rain, a kiss that makes your leg kick up, or some other kind of grand gesture like they always have in the movies," she replied.

Remus looked at her, eyes wide with surprise, and she felt her entire body turn red with embarrassment over the words she had spilled out without even realising. "Who would have known you were a hopeless romantic, Hermione?" he grinned at her.

"Don't listen to me," she flushed. "What about you?"

"I have always wanted to ride a bicycle," he replied.

Shocked by the simplicity of his confession, she felt sad as she realised all he had probably missed out on during his life.

"We're going to have to fix that, right now," she proclaimed, as they finished their meal. "Let's go."

Hermione drug Remus out of his seat by the hand and pulled him back out to their apparition point. She apparated them to a bicycle rental shop, where she told him to wait outside, as she went in to rent two bicycles.

"Hermione, no," Remus stammered over his words, chuckling, as she walked out pushing two bicycles.

"Oh come on, Remus," she chirped, "It's easy! I'll teach you."

"Yes, teach me to make a fool of myself," he laughed.

Hermione showed Remus the basics of bike riding. She tried to hold back laughs as she watched a grown man, one who had fought in multiple wars and overcome great obstacles, lose his Gryffindor courage as he attempted to gain balance on a bicycle.

Yet it wasn't too long before they were riding through the streets of London, and Remus watched the wind whip through Hermione's hair in front of him. He couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked with the sun grazing her skin. She looked so light and free. Something he hardly recognised in his dark world.

As they returned their bikes, Remus turned to Hermione and said, "Will you come see me tomorrow?"

"I'd love to," she smiled. "Where?"

"You'll have to wait and see," he said and winked at her.

* * *

It was warm out, so Hermione picked a pretty, cream-coloured sundress to wear on her date with Remus. Excitedly waiting, early evening was approaching when she heard a tap at her window. She opened the curtain to see smalls bursts of light hitting her window, making the noise. Hermione pushed up the window and leaned outside to see a smiling man below.

"Are you ready?" he asked, grinning.

Hermione shook her head yes and apparated outside, landing right next to him. She smiled up at Remus as she took the hand that he held out. When she opened her eyes, she was standing in the forest that she knew was near his cottage. After a few minutes of walking, hand in hand, Hermione noticed them approach what appeared to be two painting stations in the middle of a clearing in the trees.

"How did you know I love to paint?!" Hermione gasped.

"A little owl told me," Remus smirked.

They each took a station, facing each other, and painted in the peaceful quiet that was the forest surrounding them. Hermione painted a group of beautiful wildflowers that were spread out amongst the ground around them. She wasn't able to see what Remus was working on, but she couldn't help but glance in his direction and marvel at the delicate strokes he made on his canvas, and the intent but peaceful look he had on his face. She was taken out of her trance as she felt a wet drop hit her shoulder.

"Remus, I think it is about to rain; we should probably take these inside," she suggested.

The patter of rain built quickly and Remus cast a quick charm that prevented any water from ruining their works. Hermione grinned in awe as she took in their surroundings, looking around herself at all angles, as rain pounded down around them. She jumped as Remus got extremely close, holding out one hand, with the other behind his back.

"Dance with me," he asked her, smiling tenderly.

"What?" she squeaked. "Here?!"

"Movie moment, Hermione," he winked at her.

Remus took her hand and glided her out of her seat. He put one hand at the small of her back, holding her other hand out with his, as he slowly guided Hermione in a graceful dance. Even in the chill of the forest, her entire body was warm with the emotions she was feeling for this man. For Remus.

"Thank you for today," he said.

"It's been wonderful," she replied, smiling tenderly at him.

"You really are amazing, Hermione," he whispered to her. "For the first time in a while, I feel some happiness again. You're like warmth. Like the sun."

"Perfect, since you're the moon," she replied with a wink.

Hermione looked up at Remus as he stopped dancing, as the rain continued to beat down around them. He leaned down, took his hands to her face, and gently pressed his lips to hers, stopping time in that moment.

* * *

Later that week, Remus sat on his front porch, contemplating the turns his life had taken as of late, when a familiar owl dropped a letter in his lap. He read that Hermione had something for him, and was asking if she could come by. He took the letter inside, he quickly penned a response, and sent the tawny bird off into the evening sun.

Minutes later Hermione was stepping in through the Floo, with excitement showing all over her face. The joy radiating off of her was contagious and Remus felt lighter as she entered the room.

"I have something for you," she said as she headed toward him.

"You shouldn't have," Remus responded shyly.

Hermione dug in her bag and pulled out a vial. She handed it to Remus, who instantly recognised the potion, as his eyes went wide in surprise. "Wolfsbane!" Remus whispered in shock. "Hermione!" he shouted as he picked her up and hugged her tight.

"I practised making it multiple times," she said through his tight squeeze. "I'm positive I have it perfected now," Hermione stated proudly.

"You brilliant witch," he replied. "You really are the brightest witch of your age aren't you," he winked at her as he put her down.

"You've only just realised?" she questioned with a smirk.

"Honestly though, Hermione," he paused. "I can't ask you to make this for me."

"You didn't, and it's a gift, so you can't refuse," she said with a smile. "I have more vials at Grimmauld Place."

"Thank you," he stated softly, as he leaned in and kissed her forehead. "You'll never know how grateful I am for this."

"I am happy to make it," she said kindly, sinking into his embrace.

* * *

Andromeda's mind wandered as she watched Remus and Teddy play outside at the cottage. She had begun to notice a slow change in Remus. He had shifted from a lost, broken man, to someone who seemed to smile for no reason at all. At times, she still saw the pain in his eyes, especially when he watched his son, a teal-haired reminder of everything he had lost. However, she knew what was bringing this change in her son-in-law. She went inside and gave Remus' owl a letter to deliver, opened the window, and watched the bird fly out.

* * *

Hermione was at the stove, helping Ginny cook, when they suddenly heard tapping at the kitchen window.

"Whose bird is this?" Ginny questioned as she opened up the window, letting the owl fly in.

The grey and brown owl dropped a letter on the nearby table and swiftly left out the same window before Ginny could shut it. Ginny grabbed the letter and handed it to Hermione, noticing the Lupin seal on it.

"I never knew Lupin had such nice handwriting," Ginny mentioned.

"He doesn't." Hermione replied. She saw Remus' seal as she took the letter Ginny handed her, but was startled when she turned over the letter to see her name in delicate, beautiful penmanship. "This isn't his writing," she said.

"Open it up!" Ginny shrieked. "What does it say?"

Hermione opened the letter and instantly scanned to the bottom to reveal the author. "It's from Andromeda," she whispered. "She's invited me over for tea on Thursday."

* * *

Hermione's stomach had been in knots since she woke up. She wasn't sure how Andromeda was feeling about the marriage law and her pairing with Remus, which made her exceptionally nervous.

Andromeda had mentioned in her letter that Hermione could use the Floo to get to her home. With ten minutes left until two, she stood in front of the Floo at Harry's and fidgeted with the bottom of her dress with one arm, as she smoothed her cardigan with the other one. Ginny gave her a comforting hug and told her she looked perfect. Harry stepped in when Ginny moved aside and hugged her as well.

"Just be yourself, Hermione," Harry said. "Who wouldn't love you?"

"Well you and Ron for one!" Hermione snapped, reminding Harry that they weren't best friends from the beginning.

"And look at us now!" he replied, smiling. "See, nothing to worry about."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, as he gave her a reassuring pat on the back. She stepped into the Floo, and in an instant, was stepping out of it, into Andromeda's living room.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Hermione," Andromeda said politely.

Straightening herself from the travel, Hermione looked up at the beautiful woman in front of her.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Tonks," Hermione replied. "Thank you for the invitation."

"Please, you can call me Andromeda," she responded. "Would you care for some tea?"

"Of course, thank you," Hermione answered.

Hermione followed Andromeda outside, to where she had a lovely table set for tea in the garden. Running on pure adrenaline in the presence of the Slytherin witch, Hermione was rigid with nerves.

Andromeda sensed her anxiety and said, "My dear, you have nothing to worry about. If I had wanted you dead, then I surely would have come up with an alibi, rather than inviting you to tea."

Hermione let out a light gasp and became stiff in her seat. Andromeda let out an unexpected laugh that eased the tension Hermione was feeling. "Goodness child, what on earth did you think I invited you here for?" Andromeda smirked.

"Honestly?" Hermione questioned. "Aside from talking about the law, I wasn't really sure."

"Yes, I cannot believe the Ministry," Andromeda replied. "And to top it off, they had the nerve to exclude themselves from the absurd law."

"It's just not fair! They shouldn't be forcing people to get married. I don't understand how this could happen. Haven't people been through enough?" Hermione let out.

"Yes," Andromeda said softly. "We have. You, myself, and Remus more so than most, as I'm sure you'd agree."

"I'm so sorry for your losses," she replied quietly.

"Thank you, Hermione," she responded. "I am too."

They sat quietly for a moment, sipping their tea. "Do you like him?" Andromeda questioned, breaking the silence.

"Who?!" Hermione squeaked, realising the conversation she was dreading had started.

"Remus," she said. "Do you like him?"

"Of course I do." Hermione eloquently replied. "Remus was the best professor I ever had, he's brilliant, and-"

"No, doll, I mean, do you really like him?" Andromeda said as she cut her off.

"Yes," Hermione said softly, as her face turned a bright shade of pink.

"I want you to know," Hermione blurted out, "that I would never try to replace what your daughter was to him. Even though we never planned for the Ministry to make this law, I know that I could never-"

Hermione lost her words suddenly as Andromeda got up and embraced her in a hug.

"I know, Hermione." Andromeda replied as she held on to her. "Just promise me something…" she said, as she let go and brushed Hermione's curls back that had gone awry in their hug. "Promise me that you won't break his heart. I don't think he could take it." The older witch paused. "Besides, I could use another hand with Teddy, that kid's a handful!" she said, laughing as she winked at Hermione.

* * *

Teddy ran in to Andromeda's house, squealing as usual, follow shortly by a stressed-looking Remus. He flopped on the sofa in her living room, as Teddy ran into his own room get his toys.

"How are you?" Andromeda asked as she brought him a cup of tea.

"Exhausted," he replied. "What did you do today?"

"Oh, I had tea with Hermione," she replied nonchalantly.

"You what!?" Remus shouted as he jumped upright in his seat. "What for?! Why didn't you tell me?" he questioned.

"I believe I just did tell you, Remus," she smirked.

"You know what I mean, Dromeda." he replied.

"I wanted to get to know her." Andromeda answered his earlier question. "She is my future daughter-in-law, after all."

Remus blushed at her statement and fiddled with his teacup.

"I have something for you," Andromeda said as she went in to the other room to retrieve something out of a hutch drawer.

"What is this?" Remus questioned as he received the letter she handed him.

Remus turned over the letter to see the words, _to my wolf_ , inscribed in familiar scribble. With surprise, and pain in his heart that suddenly overwhelmed him, he tore open the envelope that contained a letter from his late wife.

 _My wolf,_

 _If you're reading this, then the worst has happened. Which you obviously know._

Remus huffed out a small chuckle at his wife's sarcasm even down to her last minute. Tears started to stream down his face.

 _I know you told me to stay behind,_

 _but there was no way I could sit by as you risked your life for our future._

 _I hope you forgive me for that._

 _There is nothing that could have made me happier than spending our lives together as a family._

 _My only hope is that you are still there to raise our sweet boy._

 _I made the choice to fight, to give our son the future he deserves._

 _I need you to move on, and raise him out of the darkness that currently fills our world._

 _Be his light, my love._

 _I want you to find someone who will take care of you and Teddy._

 _Please, for me._

 _Don't be stubborn._

 _Find someone whom you can love, and who will love you as much as I do._

 _Someone who will love Teddy as their own._

 _Lastly, Remus, be happy._

 _And always know, I loved you until my last breath._

 _\- Tonks_

Remus burst into sobs, staining Tonks' letter with tears, as he read the last sentence. Andromeda wrapped her arms around him and they cried together, not needing to say anything, releasing the pain they felt, from the loss of the beautiful soul they had loved so much.

After they ran out of tears and a long silence, Remus asked her where she had got the letter. Andromeda explained that her daughter had left them each an envelope on the table, and by the time she found them, Tonks had already left to fight and there was nothing she could do to stop her.

"She wants you to move on, Remus," Andromeda spoke softly to him.

"I know," Remus replied sombrely.

"She loves you, you know." Andromeda added.

"I know," he whispered.

"No," Andromeda responded. "I mean Hermione, son. Hermione loves you."

Remus looked over at his mother-in-law with surprise, understanding the unspoken implication of her telling this to him. He still felt the fresh pain of re-living the loss of his wife. However, a warm thought helped ease the pain, ever so slightly, at the idea planted in his mind by Andromeda.

* * *

Hermione walked down the stairs from her room with sleepy eyes. She stopped suddenly as she realised she was about to walk straight into Harry and Ginny, who were both looking up at her with huge smiles.

"Stop right where you are, Hermione," Ginny chirped excitedly, "You have to get ready."

"For what?" Hermione trudged tiredly.

"Remus is going to be here in an hour," Harry replied nervously. "I kind of told him you were free, again."

"Harry!" Hermione squealed, as she rolled her eyes at her best friend.

"Come on, Hermione!" Ginny added. "We don't have much time!"

Hermione turned on the spot, figuring she might as well obey, rather than fight Ginny this early in the day.

"I don't even know what to wear," Hermione huffed. "Did he say where we're going?"

"He did," Ginny replied, clearly not divulging any information. "Wear this, it's perfect."

Hermione put on her floor length flowy skirt and rust coloured top that Ginny handed her, just in time for Harry to pop in the room.

"He's here, Hermione." Harry said, smiling at the girls.

Hermione grinned, and nodded her head at her friend. She followed them out of the room and headed down the stairs to meet Remus. She looked down to see him, smiling at her. "Morning, love," he said.

Hermione's heart burst as she saw him. "Good morning," she beamed.

"You ready?" he asked, holding his hand out for her.

She nodded and gave him her hand, following him outside.

Seconds later, they were in the fields that bordered the forest near Lupin cottage. "What are we doing?" Hermione asked him.

"We're almost there," he responded, not quite answering her question.

As they walked, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Hermione noticed she fit perfectly under his arm, and realised how comfortable she'd come to feel being so close to him. She loved being tucked close to his side, where she could feel the warmth of his body that always ran slightly high, and smell his scent that she had grown to crave, which reminded her of a mixture of the woods and campfires. Thoughts of him filled her mind, and a blush appeared on her face, as she suddenly realised they had stopped walking.

"Wow, is this for us?" she questioned, as she noticed the romantic, rustic table setting, filled with breakfast items in the field in front of them.

"Yes," he responded with a smile building on his face, "I figured you'd be hungry, since I came by so early."

Remus held out her chair, and pushed her seat in as she sat down. He leaned down, and planted a kiss on her forehead before moving over to his seat. "You look beautiful today, Hermione," he told her.

"Thank you," she replied, beaming at him.

They talked for hours, simply enjoying one another's presence. After they ate, Remus conjured a large, soft, blanket and pillows for them nearby on the ground. Hermione laid next to him, with his arm behind her neck, as they looked up to the clouds.

"Look!" Hermione squeaked, pointing to a cloud. "That one looks like an otter!"

Remus laughed at her excitement. "It looks to be chasing that larger one next to it, shaped like a wolf!" he replied, to which she giggled.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" he asked her.

"That sounds nice," she responded with a nod.

They walked through the field and Hermione spotted a nearby fence along their path. "Over here!" she exclaimed. She hopped up on to the fence and began balancing as she walked along. Remus smiled and grabbed her hand as they continued to walk, him on the ground, and her above him. They walked along for a while before Hermione jumped down, and Remus motioned for them to head over to a nearby tree. They sat down at the trunk, and he held her as they watched the sun begin to set.

"Marry me," Remus whispered in her ear.

"What?" she questioned, and looked at him with surprise.

"I mean…" he responded. "I know we have the law. But you deserve more than that. You deserve someone who will cherish every moment they have with you. Someone who wants to be with you, not because they are forced to, but because they want to be, every second they are allowed. Someone who understands just how brilliant you are. And who sees just how beautiful you are. Let me be that person. Will you marry me, Hermione?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and tears slipped down her cheeks. "Yes!" she chirped, as she pushed her eager lips to his. Remus pulled back and grabbed a thin rose-gold band out of his pocket and placed it on her ring finger before kissing her again.

* * *

It was early in the morning, August 1st, the day of their wedding. Hermione snuck out before Ginny could start harassing her to get ready, and disapparated to the edge of the property near Lupin cottage, where Remus was waiting for her. He bent down and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"Which way?" Hermione asked him.

"Just over here," he replied as he pointed off in the direction beside them.

After walking for a few minutes, Hermione stopped as she noticed the gravesite where they were headed. "I can wait right here," she said bashfully.

"Please, will you come with me?" Remus questioned.

She nodded and grabbed his outstretched hand, as she followed him closer to the headstone. When she was close enough, she read the engraving aloud.

"Here lies Nymphadora Lupin (nee Tonks). Daughter, wife, and mother. A beautiful soul, taken far too soon."

Hermione looked over at Remus in time to see a few tears drop to his cheeks. He huffed a small chuckle and said, "You know, she would be so mad to see that say 'Nymphadora'... 'Dromeda insisted."

Remus let go of Hermione's hand, and knelt down in front of his first love's gravestone. "I found her 'Dora," he whispered. "Just like you asked me to." He kissed the edge of the stone before standing up and rejoining Hermione.

Hermione held out her wand, and conjured a wreath of beautiful wildflowers to sit against Tonks' headstone.

* * *

Ginny finally finished Hermione's hair and makeup, right as Harry walked in carrying a large gift-wrapped item.

"Hermione!" Harry gasped.

"Do I look okay?" Hermione asked nervously, as she gave him a twirl.

"You look so beautiful," he responded with a smile, wrapping her in his arms. "You really are happy, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," she replied as tears welled up in her eyes. "So happy."

"Stop it, Harry," Ginny interrupted. "You'll ruin all my work!"

"What is this?" Hermione asked Harry.

"It's from Remus," he replied smiling. "I was instructed to give this to his bride."

Hermione unwrapped the large, flat gift to see a beautiful painting of herself. It showed her, painting in the woods, on the same day she and Remus had shared their first kiss. "This must be what Remus painted on our date!" she gasped.

"Wow," Ginny added, "Who knew he could paint so well! That's so sweet!"

Ginny left, and trotted outside to get to her spot up front as the maid of honour, across from Remus and Sirius, who was his best man. Harry held out his arm for Hermione to hold on to as they made their way out.

They walked out of Lupin cottage and down the path of flower petals that led them deeper into the forest, where everyone waited. Hermione noticed the few rows of wooden log bench seats, filled with only their closest friends. The smiling faces gasping and staring at her with love filled her heart with joy. She looked above and noticed the lanterns hanging from the tree branches. And little specks of enchanted light floated all around them, giving off a warm glow. Taking in her surroundings, Hermione looked straight ahead and saw the man she was about to marry looking back at her with adoring eyes. Harry kissed her on the cheek and left her to Remus's care. Facing him in this moment took her breath away.

She was hardly able to get through her vows, as she tried not to cry with the overwhelming happiness she felt. She handed Ginny her bouquet, and Remus pushed a strand of hair back that had fallen loose from her up-do. Remus spoke his vows to her with his soft, deep, voice:

"I will carry your heart forever, Hermione. And I promise to guard it, and love you with all that I am. I will take this second chance I've been given, and use it to make you happy every single day. You have brought new meaning to my life. And I will cherish every minute that I get to spend with you by my side. I will forever be your moon, and you will always be my sun."

Remus wiped the tear that was falling down Hermione's cheek. He placed his hand at the small of her back and pulled her close to him, pressing their bodies together. He held her as he let her fall backwards, leaned down, and gently kissed her, parting her lips with his own. As he lifted her upright, all their friends burst with clapping and cheers.

* * *

After hours of laughing and dancing the night away with their friends, Hermione carried Teddy into the cottage, tiredly draped over her shoulder.

Remus followed her in after finishing his goodbyes. He walked down the hall to his son's room and paused as he thought he heard singing. He peered around the corner into Teddy's room, and saw Hermione rocking him to sleep in the chair, softly singing ' _Hush, little baby'._

Tears welled in his eyes, as his heart burst with love for his new wife. He realised they may have been forced together at the beginning, but in that moment, he knew that all would be well.

* * *

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	5. An Unconventional Escape

**Wordsmiths & Betas Marriage Law One Shot Writing Competition**

\- Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. You will find this information at the bottom of each entry. Thank you for reading!

 **Title: An Unconventional Escape**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Romance, Drama, Mystery**

 **Pairing: Draco Malfoy / Hermione Granger**

 **Triggers: Slight Dubious Consent, Discussion of Torture**

 **Warnings: Dark Themes**

 **Disclaimer:** All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the authors represented here are profiting from these stories.

* * *

 **An Unconventional Escape**

* * *

The words reverberated through the air—loud and final.

For a moment, no one spoke. Draco felt anxiousness grip him as he surveyed the room, oddly curious to gauge everyone's reaction, and feeling inexplicably disconnected from the situation.

"Ridiculous," Theo swore, getting up and pacing around the small parlor. He shot daggers at the Ministry _Notificational_ , the offensive messenger orb swirling and silent, unlike it was just a few moments ago. "A joke—it has to be."

"When have you known _Him_ to joke?" Draco asked quietly.

"It can't be," Narcissa cried shrilly. "It's positively _mad_."

"Careful, Mother. We wouldn't want to question Him."

"Thicknesse is bat shit crazy," Lucius raged. "The Dark Lord would never stand for this."

"That's right," agreed Theo. "Pius' brain is fried. It's a wonder he's been allowed to stay on for this long at the Ministry."

Draco absently steepled his fingers under his chin, eyes calculating. "Have you all vacated your senses? Do you not see how this rings true? The Dark Lord would never allow for a _Notificational_ to be compromised. If there's one thing to be sure of—it's that this edict has the Dark Lord's approval."

"Impossible." Narcissa crossed her arms over her chest defiantly, a look of panic etched on her face. "The Dark Lord would _never_ …he simply _wouldn't_ …"

"Wouldn't he?" Draco arched an eyebrow. "Truth be told, I'm surprised none of you saw it coming. When is the last time two Purebloods were able to produce a child? Certainly not in the twenty-first century. Any magical births have all been crossed with Muggle-borns, or even Half-bloods."

"Mudbloods," Lucius corrected sharply.

Draco merely inclined his head. "Really, you all should have expected it. The Dark Lord may be proud, but he would not allow for our magical species to be exterminated thanks to that pride. Even wizards and witches must survive and adapt."

"But I don't understand it," Narcissa argued. "We had little difficulty conceiving you, Draco. How is it that Pureblood unions are not proving fertile?"

"Think about it, Mother. You and Father only had one son, did you not try for more? I know Aunt Bella and Uncle Rodolphus tried, and many other Pureblood families. Face it—the Sacred Twenty-Eight is but a dying dream. It's impossible to keep up blood purity and there's been far too much interbreeding. It's as the edict says—we must adapt to this new world."

"Well I'm certainly not soiling myself with some Mudblood filth, or a Half-blood at that," Theo said adamantly. "I'd rather let my line wither off and die."

"Theo, darling, you can't possibly mean that," Narcissa, placed a soothing hand his shoulder. "It's bad, yes, but surely you can do your duty."

Theo set his features in what could only be described as a pout. "Possibly, yes. If it was only a matter of putting my seed in some Mudblood's belly. But marriage? And with sacred wizard's vows, no less? The man has lost his mind."

"Nott," Lucius warned.

"Those vows are ancient," Draco said, deep in thought. "Rich in binding and fertility spells. I'm sure that has much to do with it."

"And what of our witches? Must they be reduced to mistresses, then?" Theo looked around, challengingly. "I don't bloody believe it. Couple with the inferior Muggle race, or be exterminated. It's laughable."

"It's quite serious, actually," Lucius said. "We certainly can't allow ourselves to let the Muggles get the last laugh. The Dark Lord sees that."

Draco shot his friend a withering stare. "The witches will need to select Muggle or Muggle-born husbands, as well. It goes both ways, Nott."

Theo sat down heavily on the lush armchair. "I don't believe it," he mused. "I actually may have to do this."

"Don't worry, boys." Lucius straightened, adjusting his collar. Draco winced at the way his father still referred to them as boys, though they were twenty-three, for Salazar's-sake. The elder Malfoy looked quickly over to Nott. "Your father and I will go to the Muggle factory ourselves. Cygnus and I will select the best Mudbloods available, before anyone else should get their pick."

Theo looked uncertain, but resigned. "Yes, alright. I suppose that will be best."

"The problem is," Draco started. "There aren't many Mudbloods to choose from."

"Oh, but you can't couple with a Muggle, Draco, dear. What if the child turns out to be a squib?" Narcissa was fraught with worry.

"That's why we'll get there first," Lucius said, determined.

"But I don't want any Mudbloods from the Muggle factory," Draco sneered.

"But Draco," Narcissa cried. "You know what the edict said—those unable to find a suitable Mudblood companion must then resort to choosing a Muggle. You can't mean to have that fate, darling? Or worse—end the noble Malfoy line for good!" Narcissa looked near to hyperventilating, so unlike the typical cool, calm demeanor his mother was known to carry.

"Draco," Lucius hissed. "How dare you even worry your mother like that?"

"Because it's true, Father. If I can't have the Mudblood I wish to have, I'll have none whatsoever."

"Well, who is it that you want, Son? You shall not be deprived," Lucius promised.

"There is only one suitable _Mudblood_ for me." His father's smile froze as the parlor fell deathly silent. "I'll have _her,_ or no one."

"Draco." Narcissa made a valiant effort to appeal to her son. "You can't possibly mean _that_ Mudblood."

He shrugged. "And why not?"

Theo scoffed. "The Dark Lord would never allow it. Your bloody bonkers is what you are."

"Draco." Lucius' face had flushed a deep red. "There's no possible way, and I won't hear another word about it."

Draco looked down in a decidedly bored manner as he examined his nails. "You said I could have any Mudblood I please."

"The last surviving member of the Golden Trio? Really, Draco? It's you that's vacated your senses." Theo chuckled, convinced his friend was merely toying with them.

"Security cautions can be made, of course. Wards, charms, the whole nine. She would be bound to the Manor," Draco ignored the outraged gasps around him.

"But darling," Narcissa said beseechingly. "She's been in Azkaban for the better part of four years. Do you imagine she has somehow managed to _not_ go mad?"

"Yes," Lucius jumped in. "Take your Aunt Bella, for example. You know first hand what Azkaban can do to a person."

Narcissa shot her husband a deathly glare. "Or take your father, _he was only in for a few months_ , yet came back forever changed."

Lucius bared his teeth in anger.

"Exactly," Draco pounced, getting up swiftly from his seat. "And do you remember what happened when dear Father was otherwise occupied? _I_ was inducted into the Death Eaters. _I_ was given a mission—of which I executed, getting this family back in the Dark Lord's good graces. He said I could ask him for anything, of which I did not. Well, now he has something I want, and I believe I have good reason to ask."

Realization seemed to dawn on Draco's captivated audience, who now looked at him with a mixture of incredulity and fear, finally able to see the fierce determination in his cool, gray eyes.

"I want Hermione Granger."

* * *

Cold.

Frigid.

Empty.

Always so wrapped in emptiness—enveloped in darkness.

But it was her life, and she'd become used to it. She knew what to expect. _Unlike before._

Before…

She shivered at the thought of _before_.

Her mind immediately shut down at the notion. As far as she was concerned, there was no before, only _now_. And now was cold and empty. She huddled in the corner, the warmest option if anything in her dank cell could be considered warm, for as long as she could remember. When she sensed the other-than-nothingness floating by, she raised her hands to shield her face, curling in as small of a ball as she could manage. Occasionally, her handlers brought her sustenance. It had no taste or smell that she could distinguish, but she would eat it—there was no option not to. A memory of refusing tickled at her brain, but that was before, and she _did not_ dwell on before.

Before was pain and… _surprises_. They were _not_ pleasant surprises. She never knew what was coming. Always new and inventive ways to force her to break. Now she had learned. She had always been a fast learner.

She frowned at that notion, wondering where it had come from. _Always been a fast learner?_ A thought that flit across her brain as if this was a commonly accepted truth, though she couldn't fathom where it had come from.

 _No!_ Her mind clamped down on the concept, twisting and choking it like a vice. _Danger,_ a voice in her head warned _. That was before, and before has only ever been hurt and loss._

Yes, that was right—there was no point thinking on _that_ any longer. Whatever was before was safely locked away and could not be used to hurt her anymore. She needn't worry because in this world, she knew what to expect. She would play by the rules… _always by the rules._

* * *

"Sorry," High Inquisitor Umbridge chuckled lightly. "So silly of me, but it sounds like your request is to have a high level prisoner released? I must be mistaken, of course."

"No," Draco said, through gritted teeth. "You are _not mistaken_. The Ministry has decreed every Pureblood, unmarried and of age, take a spouse of Muggle heritage-"

"Do not proceed to lecture me on a Ministry edict High Mage Thicknesse and myself had a part in creating, under the Minister of Magic's direct order," the witch snapped.

Draco felt his mother put a comforting hand on his arm. "I was under the impression, I would be able to obtain an audience with the Minister, himself."

"The Dark Lord is a very busy wizard, Lord Malfoy. Surely you realize that. With the trouble in the African provinces, he cannot be bothered with trivial marriage requests involving his new edict."

"My son is within his right to request an audience with the Dark Lord, High Inquisitor." Narcissa stepped up to the podium, in front of her son and husband.

"What makes you believe that, Lady Malfoy?" Umbridge quirked a delicately arched brow in thinly veiled amusement.

"Draco played a pivotal role in the Wizarding war," Narcissa placated. "The Minister himself has expressed his gratefulness for my son's loyalty to the cause."

"Yes, and for that he's been awarded a lordship."

A muscle throbbed at Draco's temple and his wand hand itched. How he wished he could simply cast an _Avada_ at the troublesome cow. "We only request an audience with the Dark Lord. I would like to bring my request formally to him. Or should I wait until my campaign starts to seek him out? Nott and I leave for Algiers next week."

"You're supposed to have selected a bride by then."

Narcissa swished her long, blond hair over her shoulder. "Then I suppose it would be in your best interest to pass along the message. Or would you rather we summon him ourselves?"

Umbridge's face pinched with concern and Draco could not help but smirk.

"Pius," Umbridge gestured the wizard forward. "Summon the Dark Lord, if you please." Thicknesse pulled up the sleeve of his robes, and pressed his wand against his Dark Mark. Umbridge watched him, black eyes glittering, before looking back up at the Malfoys. "He will refuse you, you know."

Draco exchanged a look with his parents. They knew this was a long shot.

* * *

 _No! No! No!_

The other-than-emptiness was floating by… _in droves_. So many of them! But why? She hadn't done anything—hadn't _felt_ anything. Why would they swarm around her? Her eyes widened in alarm and she resisted the urge to screw them back shut.

For the first time in a long time, she saw, really saw, her surroundings. It was dark, like it always was. But the outside was tinged a midnight blue, which signified daylight. She looked down at the tattered remnants of her dress—she practically blended in with the cobblestones around her, having seeminged to have grown into it.

Her eyes flew to the open sky to the left of her cell, where she saw the dark entity she'd come to fear, float precariously close to her. _No! No fear! No feeling—I don't feel anything! What have I done wrong?_

The more she swore she would not care, the more she became alarmed. Doubt and worry flit across her face—more feelings than she had felt in ages. _No! They'll notice me._

She could not expound on it further, as she heard footsteps approach her cell. The alarm she felt only intensified. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest and her stomach clenched violently. It wasn't feeding time, so why was she receiving visitors? Nervously, she wiped at her brow which she'd come to realize, to her horror, was sweating profusely. Her clammy hands did nothing to rectify this.

Her skull throbbed, almost pulsating with a life of it's own, and she had the uncanny feeling that there was something in there hoping wildly to be released. _No!_ She clamped down on it, her mind screaming _danger_. Wracked with fear, she knew there was no way the other-than-emptiness wouldn't notice her now.

Bracing herself, she clutched the rags she wore harshly as she stared warily at the door.

The footsteps only grew louder and even though she'd attempted to prepare herself, she still recoiled away when the door slammed open.

Her handlers.

Both of them.

They were there and, bloody Morganna, but what could it mean?

Wait, bloody Morgana? Where had that come from and who was Morganna? _No,_ her mind screamed with alarm. _That's the before and we do not dwell on the before._

"Get up, you. You're coming with us."

 _Oh gods no!_ She couldn't leave, this was all she knew. Her safety. Beyond this was unimaginable terror. A world of pain and she could not bear it!

"Did you not hear me?" The one asked, and then he leaned over to the other. "Can you believe she was once considered the brightest witch of her age?"

The other nodded. "And now, reduced to this pitiful state. I have no idea what they want her for."

 _They?_

She pressed herself flush up against the wall. _No!_ She simply could not leave the confines of what she knew. They couldn't make her. A spark of fire lit up inside her and she marveled at the intensity of it. It was so foreign…and yet, oddly familiar.

"Won't come willingly? I was hoping not." With a sadistic smirk, the handler pulled her roughly to her feet, and she wrenched violently against him.

"Can't lift a starved prisoner on your own," the other scoffed as he headed to aid the first.

She fought them both, but they quickly managed to drag her up and lurch her body towards the exit, her feet scraping against the stone floor. The fear she felt intensified. She screamed.

She tasted the blood before she actually felt the slap across the face. She stayed quiet for a moment, letting them lead her to whatever atrocious fate they had planned for her. But when they rounded the corner, she thrashed with all her might against their relentless grip, it was the furthest she'd ever been from her cell!

"Come on, you." The handler gave her arm a rough twist and her skull collided against the stone wall, and she heard an audible snap in her wrist.

After that, she stayed limp, resolved not to make things any worse than she already had. Vaguely, she became aware of the colors changing. Whereas, before there was only fortified stone walls, high as the eye could see, now they were richly painted, and her eyes widened in disbelief as she felt her battered toes brush against marble.

She had never been here, not even in _the before_ ; of that she was sure.

Her eyes darted around of their own accord, taking note of the sconces on the wall allowing her to make out colors that were foreign to her. They assaulted her vision, and she felt so overwhelmed—she might faint.

Soon, the hands carrying her weight released her, and she crumpled onto the floor.

"For Salazar's-sake, did you have to be so rough with her?" The voice was sharp, but distinctly feminine; she found she liked the voice.

"Put up a fight, she did, Miss."

"I'm no _Miss_ ," she sneered in disgust. "I'm _Lady Malfoy_ , and I'm disappointed you two oafs did not possess the fortitude to levitate her down here. I expect that may exceed your magical ability?"

The woman, _Lady Malfoy_ , did not wait for them to speak. Instead she knelt to the ground and carefully reached for the prisoner's hand, pulling her tentatively into a sitting position.

She hissed at the pain in her wrist, and Lady Malfoy let go abruptly. "You did this to her," Lady Malfoy snarled at the handlers. " _Brackium Emendo_ ," she said, pointing a wooden stick at the girl's injured wrist. To her surprise, the two bones shifted and mended themselves. Lady Malfoy looked back down and spoke gently. "I won't waste time with niceties or ask you if you're alright; it's clear you are not. Instead, let this be a small comfort to you—Hermione Granger—I'm taking you home."

* * *

"Draco, young Draco." Voldemort paced stealthily around his large office. "I'm quite surprised by this request." Draco attempted to calm his breathing and adapted a mask of impassiveness. "Though there is no doubt Miss Granger is _the Mudblood_ of all Mudbloods, she is a prisoner of war, and one that has caused us all much grief. She has proven a danger whilst working for the Order and even when first incarcerated in Azkaban. Do you know she first managed to escape?" Draco nodded stiffly. "Yes, she was much trouble. I worry at the prospect of granting her freedom."

"My Lord, you must not consider it _freedom_ ," Draco said silkily. "Merely a shift in incarcerations. For my manor will be a fortified prison."

"A luxurious one," Voldemort said, placing a long, pale finger on his chin, deep in thought.

"I beg your pardon, my Lord, but that is simply not so. I will make sure she deplores her captivity."

"But why Miss Granger? Last I was informed, she was but a shell of her old self. I doubt she will be cognizant of the change."

"My Lord, I was a student with Granger for six years. There are… _traits_ , I would admire in my future heirs. I will admit, she did best me in many subjects during school, a fact of which I'm ashamed of. Her magical capability—Transfiguration and dueling—were par none. And if I have to sully my blood, I'd best do it with the Muggle-born that will help me produce powerful witches and wizards. I don't want to risk having squibs." Draco swallowed quietly, noticing by the red gleam in Voldemort's eye, he had told the dark wizard what he'd wanted to hear.

Voldemort stroked his chin in contemplation, then resumed his pacing. "She's skin and bones, I hear. Likely, she will not be fit to birth heirs for you."

"It's nothing my mother cannot handle, my Lord," Draco countered smoothly. "I'm sure she can get Granger fit _physically_ in no time."

"If lasting damage hasn't been done."

"If I'm unable to put my child in Granger's belly, she can go back to Azkaban, my wife or not."

Voldemort arched what would have been his eyebrow at this. His gaze on Draco intensified, and Draco stilled himself for what was coming, _already prepared_. When he felt the brush of Legilimency, it was light and focused. Draco let Voldemort see what he wanted to see, not breaking the Dark Lord's stare.

A small smile appeared on Voldemort's face and the longer he looked into Draco's eyes, the wider it got. "An old school rivalry." He let out a grating laugh. "How marvelous. I do see, young Draco, that you do wish to secure yourself magically sufficient heirs, but there is also a desire to torment your former nemesis."

Draco nodded.

"Well, in that case, I do seem to remember granting you permission to ask of what you desire, after proving yourself at the Astronomy Tower, and then again at the Manor when you identified the Golden Trio. Now, glimpsing your mind, I feel like I would be remiss to not grant you this wish. You have my blessing."

Draco smiled wickedly, displaying his teeth, as Voldemort's sadistic face gave into laughter.

* * *

Curled up in a large porcelain tub, surrounded by facets and colorful soap dispensers, she wrapped her arms securely over legs, hiding in the massive amounts of bubbles.

"Hermione, dear," Lady Malfoy called, sitting on the edge of the tub. "This is Mimsy." Lady Malfoy gestured to a small creature with large ears, standing stoically by her side. "She's going to help you wash, will that be alright?"

"Why do you keep calling me Hermione?" she asked quietly.

Lady Malfoy smiled comfortingly at her. "Because that's your name, dear. Hermione Jean Granger."

"It's not my name."

"Well, what shall we call you, then?"

"Jean. I like Jean."

"Alright, Jean it is. Mimsy, if you please?" The small elf reached for some pink liquid, before applying a generous amount to Jean's hair and working it into a thick lather. "Don't worry, Jean, dear. You'll be right as rain in no time."

Jean's eyes fluttered shut. Since leaving the dark fortress she had known as home, she'd braced herself for the pain that would surely follow. Yet, it never came. Ever since Lady Malfoy had mended Jean's hurt wrist, things seemed to have gotten better and better. And now she was in… _heaven_. Yes, that was the word. She was in heaven, and it was wonderful. The hot water soaked into her skin, quenching it. It was as if there were some sort of healing properties in the liquid, for Jean felt as if she was being replenished down to her very bones. Her head lulled back at the feel of Mimsy's fingers massaging her scalp as she worked the odd soap into Jean's tumultuous curls. This was much better than when she had first been forced into the shower, where she was instructed to scrub layers and layers of dirt off of her skin.

As she lie in the tub, welcoming the unfamiliar feelings of…relaxation, she was absently aware of Lady Malfoy prattling on. "Of course the diagnostic spell did show fluid in your lungs so-," she waved the odd but elegant, dark stick over Jean again. "that should do it. Can you breathe easier?" Jean nodded. "Good. But you're thin, far too thin! We'll have to do something about that, won't we? Did you like the potato and celery soup?" Jean nodded. Did she ever? She still couldn't make sense of their kind treatment of her. "That's wonderful, dear. I figured something light to ease you into things. Now-"

Lady Malfoy was interrupted by a harsh rap on the door. "Mother." Jean bolted upright in the tub, water splashing over the sides, at the sound of _that_ voice. "Let me in this instant. Why do you mean to keep her from me?"

Jean stared up at Lady Malfoy, alarmed, eyes pleading, for what she wasn't sure. "Not now, Draco. Jean needs her rest. She's been through quite the ordeal."

"I know that Mother," the annoyed voice snapped. "Do you really think I don't know that? She's mine, and I will see her."

"She isn't yours yet, Draco Abraxas Malfoy. And she's in no mood for visitors. She's overwhelmed enough by having met me. She'll get a day's rest, first."

"Met you? And why do you call her Jean?"

"I'll explain later. So help me, Draco. If I have to ward you out of the Blue Room, I'll do it. You can be sure of that, Son."

Whining could be heard on the opposite side of the door. "Fine, Mother," the voice relinquished. "But just one day's rest."

Lady Malfoy gave a frightened Jean a warm smile. "Not to worry, dear. It's only Draco. He's to be your husband, you know."

Jean nodded numbly. Really, she had no idea.

"Mimsy," Lady Malfoy said. "Leave that potion treatment in her hair and dry her." Mimsy helped Jean step out of the tub and set about drying her. "Give her this dressing gown to wear."

Jean couldn't believe how soft the material was and she had an odd impulse to spin around in it. Mimsy lead Jean out of the bathroom and into the vast "Blue Room" as she'd heard them refer to it. There was lush, dark blue furniture and rugs that looked soft to the touch. The walls were painted light blue and had gold crown blue molding accenting it. In the middle was a huge four-poster bed complete with a sheer blue canopy.

"Help her into bed, Mimsy."

Mimsy complied and Jean could not help but catch her breath at the indescribable softness of the sheets, duvet, and mattress. She actually sank a few inches into the bed as it caressed her slight frame.

"Lady Malfoy, I don't want to go back," she said meekly.

Lady Malfoy ran her hand gently over Jean's forehead, her face full of understanding. "And you won't. Oh, and do call me Narcissa. I'm to be your mother, you know. Now, tilt your head up and drink this, dear." Narcissa put a small vial against her lips. "Dreamless sleep. I won't have you having night terrors. Tonight will be restful."

Jean drank as she was bid. Then furrowed her eyebrows, and looked up at the older woman. "Narcissa, what does _a husband_ mean?"

Narcissa sighed. "It means that you won't have to return to Azkaban."

* * *

Draco stared at his tea, sweetened with honey and flavored with lemon, feeling jumpy and on edge.

"How do you suspect it will be in Africa?" Theo asked.

"Dreadfully hot, I imagine," Draco answered distractedly.

Theo snatched another wafer off of the tray. "They really should have sent us sooner. I'm sure the two of us could have squashed this little uprising quicker than those gits at the Ministry."

"It's difficult to catch smoke, Theo. I wouldn't be too pompous about it." Draco drummed his fingers impatiently over the table.

"Did you hear Headmaster Snape will be taking the weekend off to join us? Smoke or not, those buggers don't have a chance now."

"I hope you're right. It's not a matter of simply defeating the wizards, but finding them. The word is, they hole themselves up in the jungle, leaving no visible sign they are there. They've become excellent at hiding."

"Still," Theo argued. "I'm confident we'll make strides in the right direction, and hopefully quickly too. I have my little Mudblood to get back to." He snickered at this. "My healer says I've already put a child in her."

"Congrats, Theo. You'll be a father."

"I expect I'll be a better one than mine ever was. And what about you—have you been reunited with your bride yet?"

Draco ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Mother is being quite protective of her."

"I bet Granger is a rough sight to see. She always was, but now," Theo cringed dramatically. "I really don't know why you insisted on her."

"Granger bested us both in nearly every subject in school. That's an attribute I would want to see in my children. Better the enemy you know than the one you don't, and I know nothing about those Mudbloods that work with the Muggles in that factory."

"I think I lucked out with mine."

They were interrupted by a popping sound as Mimsy appeared before them. "Master Draco. Mistress be ready for you to send for the Ministry official, she is. Sends Mimsy to ask you."

Draco, got up hastily from his seat. "I'll owl my father. He can accompany the officiator to the Manor when he returns home." _No more wasting time sealing the arrangement_ , he thought. _Voldemort is far too prone to changing his mind_.

* * *

Jean stretched luxuriously on her bed, feeling as if she were being swaddled by clouds. When she opened her eyes, she had a brief moment of panic as she realized she had no idea where she was. Dimly, she was aware her head felt more clear than she could ever recall. For once in her existence, she did not feel physical pain, but the aching emptiness that seemed to be embedded deep in her soul, was ever present and hungry for something to fill itself with.

She needn't have worried before—the physical pain had been enough to distract her. But now, with no pressing fear of being hurt, her focus had shifted, becoming painstakingly aware of the odd void that plagued her.

Hauling herself to a sitting position, she didn't have long to expound on the idea before the strange little creature, Mimsy, appeared with a pop by her bed.

The rest of the morning was a whirlwind of activity. Mimsy promptly sat her at the small table in her room before setting sweetened porridge, fruit, tea, and toast in front of her and encouraging Jean to eat. She didn't need much encouragement. Having been deprived for so long, she found her appetite was quite voracious.

During the meal, Narcissa had sauntered into the room delivering her greetings and further instruction to the busy house elf. She'd selected a periwinkle gown from the chiffarobe, displaying it with a flourish to Jean who feigned polite interest before turning back to her breakfast.

Once she was finished, Mimsy set about brushing the tangles and knots through her hair, surprisingly easy to remove thanks to the potion left in the previous night. Narcissa then proceeded to wave the black stick over Jean's hair, and she watched in the mirror as her curls twisted themselves into an intricate updo. Her mind could not make sense of how this had occurred, so she simply ignored it, playing with the sheer overlay of her dress.

"Your eyes are still so hollow and your cheeks are gaunt," Narcissa had exclaimed in distress. "I'd rather not do a glamor. Simple cosmetics will have to suffice."

Jean allowed the woman to tuck and pull at her, complying passively as Mimsy and Narcissa fussed over.

Finally, they seemed to be finished as they stood beaming down at her proudly.

Narcissa gestured her to stand in front of the tall mirror. "Come child, have a look."

Jean straightened herself obediently, dragging her curious eyes to the glass. The woman that stared back at her was completely foreign. She couldn't be certain what she looked like before, but whatever she could imagine, it wasn't this unfamiliar person she saw now. Jean didn't know what to think of her appearance and felt strangely disconnected from it all.

"You look beautiful, dear," Narcissa assured her. Jean tried to curl her lips upwards as she'd seen Narcissa and even Mimsy do, in response. "Now then, there's just one more thing." Narcissa pulled a small vial from her the pocket of her robes, popping the stopper and holding it out for her. "This isn't a love potion, I wouldn't give you that. It's an inhibition potion."

Jean took the small vial Narcissa held out to her. "Inhibition potion?" She did not know what those words meant.

Narcissa nodded. "Yes. Meaning, it won't force you to do something against your will—like the Imperius—but it will remove your fears and inhibitions. The last thing you need is to be worried over something else."

"Should I be worried, Narcissa?"

Narcissa smiled comfortingly. "There will be… _changes._ But I've promised you you'll be safe now, and I meant that. _My son means it._ He will protect you. But there are certain… _duties_ that you may be frightened of at first. You don't need to be. Draco does not mean you harm. He simply must seal his union with you."

Jean did not bother explaining to Narcissa that she didn't know what 'seal his union' meant, and instead, drowned the contents of the vial in one sip.

She felt an odd feeling immediately afterwards. _Confidence?_ her mind offered. Jean frowned at the unfamiliarity of it.

"Let's go, dear. The officiator from the Ministry has arrived, and Blishwick will not wait for long."

Jean followed obediently, looping her arm through Narcissa's. As they passed more rooms before reaching the top of the stairway, Jean noticed she no longer felt the anxiousness that had previously gripped her. Voices drifted up from the first floor of the manor, but she did not hesitate to take a downwards step.

The voices below hushed upon noticing the duo descending the stairs. Jean looked down at the four strangers, clad in black, that were congregated in the open room. She scanned the small party quickly before her gaze landed on one man in particular.

Her eyes flickered over his tall and lean figure. He stood proudly and there was something distinctly arragont about the way he carried himself. She noticed how his platinum blond hair hung loose over his forehead, looking soft to the touch. His jaw was set cruelly, lips pressed in a thin line and Jean felt her lips quirking of their own accord this time—though she was mystified as to why she found it humerous. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of gray—stormy and currently smoldering at her. She might have looked away, but feeling strangely emboldened she stared back openly. Something about him caused her stomach to flutter and her heart to clench, not from nerves, but rather simply a gut reaction to seeing him.

"Jean, dear," Narcissa said, interrupting her from her silent musings. "This is Draco." Narcissa gestured to the man Jean had just been appraising.

Draco closed the gap between them with four long strides, taking her hand in his and placing a chaste kiss on her palm. "Hello," he greeted.

"Hello," she returned boldly.

"Let's get this underway, shall we?" He didn't seem to be addressing her specifically, but rather, the others in general. Despite the inherent cruelness of his features, she identified something oddly close to tenderness in his silver gaze. She let him place her arm in his and walked with him as he lead her into an adjoining room.

For the first time, she noticed the others that were walking with them. There was a man about Draco's age looking at her. _Gawking_ , a voice in Jean's head supplied sourly. The other two wizards were elderly. One she assumed was the officiator, while the other was the spitting image of an older Draco.

They entered into a parlor equally as dark as the rest of what she'd seen of the manor. The only light source were from candles floating on either side of the room. She could not make sense of the strange sight, nor could she make sense of the glowing circle etched into the oak wood.

"I understand you would like to proceed the ancient wizarding way?" the officiator, Blishwick asked.

Draco nodded.

"Not a simple civil ceremony, mate? That's all the Ministry requires," the young, brunette man queried.

Draco shook his head. "I'm fairly agreeable with some of the _advantages_ the ancient way has to offer," he explained.

Jean felt as if they were speaking another language, and she watched avidly as Blishwick raised his own wooden stick and the circle etched in the floor began glowing, growing, and stretching before it was hovering above the floor. She noticed the others stepping away from the three of them.

"Step into the circle, if you please," Blishwick instructed.

Jean complied, letting Draco assist her as they stepped over the glowing line and into the circle. Normally, she would be wary, but her mind accepted all the mystifying things she was seeing with inexplicable ease. She watched Blishwick curiously as he raised his wooden stick and droned on, his words may as well have been gibberish.

Her gaze was drawn to their hands as Draco tied a golden cord around her wrist.

"I will initiate the binding spell." A wispy, golden light shot out from Blishwick's stick towards her wrist. Jean was shocked to see the cord becoming transparent, before disappearing completely, though she could still feel a tickle of where it had been. She noticed a faint glow appear around Draco's wrist as well. "Now say the words. _Blood of my blood, and bone of my bone, I pledge you my body, my spirit, so we shall be one. On my magic and honor_."

Jean repeated the odd words, feeling slightly silly saying them, but the silliness quickly vanished as a strange heaviness settled in.

"I proclaim you witch and wizard, man and wife."

The three observers clapped at his words and the circle promptly disintegrated into nothing. Jean could not help but feel as if the whole ordeal held serious implications that she couldn't quite understand, but there was no anxiousness.

* * *

After the festivities and libations, as the older, blond man, Lucius, she came to learn, decreed, night had fallen and the small party began dispersing. There had been a lot of giggling and flushed cheeks thanks to the copper liquid served in crystal glasses. Jean had enjoyed the array of foods that had been prepared and listening to the others converse. Sometimes, they would politely draw her into the conversation. Mostly, she enjoyed watching her _new husband_ when his attention wasn't on her.

She was intrigued by him, and took note of every move he made. _He moves so gracefully_ , she had thought. So far, his temperament seemed mild compared to the whiny boy she had first heard when he'd spoken to his mother the day before. He never smiled, but he made her feel comfortable with the light circles he stroked in the small of her back, and in the protective way he held her by her waist.

Now that the evening was drawing to an end, she found herself following Draco up the stairs. Instead of going to the room she was familiar with, they went to one opposite. Inside, the room was a combination of blacks and grays, complete with a black canopy bed and impressive chandelier with slate colored accents. The door closed behind them and she looked over to watch as Draco walked to a high table against the wall.

"My mother says you don't remember anything," he said, lifting up a decanter filled with coppery-colored liquid and pouring it in two crystal tumblers. "She says you likely may never remember." Jean frowned at this as Draco walked over, handing her a glass. "I don't believe that." His eyes were intense, the gray having morphed into hot metal and she felt trapped by his gaze. "The Granger I know is still in there, she's too brilliant to have left completely." Jean felt an odd chill run down her spine at the name Granger. "I don't blame you for having that bit locked away right now. It must have been hopeless to have the Dementors suck you dry, day after day, never quite seeing it through, but keeping you a shell of your normal self."

"I don't know this word, Dementors," she snarled, before taking a deep drink from her cup.

"No?" he said, eyebrows raised, and for the first time, his lips quirked slightly. Jean did not know why she should be irritated by his apparent amusement.

"If it's the-other-than-nothing you speak of, then yes."

He looked away. "They're called Dementors, and they're the reason you're like this today. Unlike my parents however, I don't think it's permanent." When he looked back his eyes were even more intense than before. "I won't lie to you, Granger."

"I hate this word, _Granger_."

"Ah yes, you go by your middle name now. Please excuse me if old habits die hard." She furrowed her brows in confusion. "As I was saying, I won't lie to you. It was a risky thing to ask for you as I have, and we're not in the clear yet."

"In the clear?"

"That's right. I chose the ancient ways for a reason. Not only are the binding vows rich in fertility spells, but they also mean I'm bound to protect you. There is little I can do to hurt you."

Her eyes flashed perilously. "And little _I_ can do to hurt _you_."

He looked up sharply. "See, I knew the Granger brains are still in there somewhere. Yes, it goes both ways, _Jean_." He guided her over to the bed to sit down and he sat beside her. "Now, I realize there is a lot you don't know, but let me surmise briefly for you. The Wizengamot was destroyed down to every last member. The Ministry was demolished before being rebuilt by the Dark Lord. _Nothing_ is the same. He's completely mastered the magical world and even Muggles know about our existence."

"I do not know these words."

He smirked, bemused. "Maybe so, but you'll remember this conversation eventually. The point is, the Dark Lord was _wrong_. The Pureblood rhetoric harped on us since birth, was _wrong_. Muggle-borns cannot simply be exterminated, or locked away in Azkaban; they are vital to magical bloodlines. Now to the point..." He took a deep breath before speaking again, "the only way to ensure your safety and that you cannot be taken from me, is if I get you pregnant. Do you know that word?"

Idly, she realized she may have felt something akin to dread at this point, but found she couldn't call on it now. She nodded.

"So you understand?" He reached for her cheek, brushing a stray honey-colored curl off of her face. "I vowed to protect you, and I will, even if one day you hate me for it, but this was the only way I could think of."

"Why would I hate you?" she said, frowning.

"Consistency," he replied with a wily and mischievous quirk of his lips. _Scoundrel_ , that strange voice in her head informed her. Jean wasn't sure if she agreed and she found she wasn't afraid of him. "I'm no saviour Gr-, Jean. Certainly no Potter-in-shining-armour, so don't get any romantic ideas." She flinched at the confusing words. "I'm driven by my wants and desires." He smirked openly now and she felt her insides quiver.

His words were like sweet venom washing over her. She felt oddly sluggish as if she _had_ been drugged, which she knew was a silly notion. She felt something creeping to the surface, it wasn't nervousness, she was far from _that_ , it was something else entirely. _Sexual anticipation_ , came the voice, sounding distinctly irritated.

His eyes bored into hers, slightly hooded yet intense nonetheless. Immense, dark and hungry waves poured off of him and she thought she could almost feel it, wrapping around her like a warm and claiming caress. Lightning flashed in those silver orbs and she responded with answering thunder. She relaxed her prim and proper position, turning slightly towards him and resting her hands on the bedspread. She tilted her head to the side, some primal part of her ready and challenging. She bit her lips—lips that ached to be touched, noting the way his gaze was drawn to them and his eyes had darkened measurably.

The smirk appeared once more, and she was beginning to think it might be a trademark of his. _He looks like a predator_ , she thought, unsure of why this thrilled her. He slowly leaned towards her, stopping mere inches from her body, and she had to arch her neck to keep his gaze, eyes burning into hers.

"I've waited a while for this," he said, voice low and raw. Her breathing quickened at her temples and a hot knot of emotion formed low in her belly, a delicious sense of anticipation welled up inside of her. He leaned forward, carefully brushing his lips with hers and she felt her eyelids flutter shut, excitement coursing through her. He pulled away, likely gauging her reaction, and she marveled at the way he looked soft and unfocused.

He kissed her again, and this time it was heated and provocative. She choked out a sound as his mouth latched onto hers, hot and possessive. Her pulse thrummed hard and fast through her body. She tilted her head to deepen the kiss, letting him explore the cavern of her mouth with his tongue. He plundered her mouth, deeper and deeper, his taste hot and demanding. His fingers trailed around her neck, before fisting in her hair. She welcomed the decadent sensations she was feeling just from his touch and let herself fall, half laying on the bed, with him following after her, never breaking the kiss.

 _This can't be just a kiss_ , she mused, feeling heated and feverish. His hands dragged down her sides over the silk of her dress, desperately seeking purchase on her hips. She found herself opening her legs wider to accommodate him. He was _there_ , immediately, nestled between her legs. He ground himself into her, eliciting a surprised whimper from her, the effect of the hard bulge rubbing against her sending liquid heat low in the pit of her abdomen.

"I know, Granger," he said, voice gravelly. "I'll make it good… _so good_ for you."

She couldn't even bring herself to care that he hadn't called her the correct name. He could call her anything he bloody-well-pleased so long as he kept touching her. She told him so. He chuckled darkly, a wicked smile on his face. She thought she should be worried at the cruel set of his face but could only summon excitement.

One hand was buried roughly in her hair as he tilted her head, latching on to her neck and sucking the blood to the surface. Her hips bucked of their own volition, seeking that exquisite sensation he'd provided her before.

"In time, my little minx," he crooned.

He continued nipping and sucking her neck, his hands caressing her body. When she felt the light touch of his fingertips over her collarbone descending lower over her chest before grazing over her cloth-covered nipples, she arched her back and mewled in delight. She jerked her wrists from her side, fed up with not being able to touch him as she wished to. Her hands flew to his back, delighting in the feel of the muscles rippling underneath the cloth.

He swallowed the small sounds of pleasure she made with another searing kiss. He reached down to her calf, bare thanks to her skirt riding high, and caressed her leg until he reached the soft material of her dress. He bunched up the fabric, wrenching it above her waist but she wasn't the least bit concerned about it. She even lifted her bum and arched her back so he could take the offending garment all the way off, flinging the expensive gown to the floor. He divested himself of his clothes and she found she very much appreciated the change.

Then it was all heated ridges and hard plains as her hands wandered over his body, exploring his chest and tracing the scars she found. He hissed when her fingertips found a particular spot on his abdomen.

"No," he said, voice gravelly. He pinned both of her wrists over her head. "Keep them there." She nodded, the anticipation growing in her lower regions. "Good girl."

She preened over his praise, resisting the urge to move. His eyes scanned her chest, now bared to him. His gaze had darkened further and her excitement heightened as she saw him dip his head low to nuzzle in the valley of her chest. His fingers brushed lightly over her sides, giving her pleasant tingles that rippled over her skin. Her nipples had hardened into stiff peaks thanks to her arousal, so she was acutely aware of when his mouth latched down on her breast. She couldn't help but arch into his attentions, encouraging him with low moans of approval.

She yearned for the delicious feel of him grinding into her once more, and was beyond pleased at the feel of his fingers over the soft material of her knickers. He rubbed slow circles over the satin material and her need quickly became hot and demanding. She writhed beneath him, unsure of just how to suffice that need, but knowing she wanted more friction. She tossed her head from side to side, electricity shooting straight to her core.

"I dreamed you would be this responsive," he said, possessively running his free hand over the mound of her breast. "You make me wild, witch." His hand trailed down her chest, over her stomach, past her bellybutton, and over the curve of her belly before reaching her hip and gripping it harshly.

"Please," she found herself pleading.

With a careful and stiff nod of his head, he reached for the hem on her knickers and pulling them roughly down her legs. She was acutely aware of how wet she was and thought perhaps she should be mortified but could only feel her desire grow further still. He dropped to his knees, spreading her legs further and hooking one leg over his shoulder. She was completely bared to him now, she could even feel his breath on her.

His tongue melted into her, hot and moving expertly. She grabbed a fistful of the bed sheets. Never had she fathomed she could feel such inexplicable pleasure—pleasure so intense, it rocked her world.

"Yes, oh gods yes," she hummed in approval.

Her body reacted of it's own accord, moving with him and making it easier. Her hand found the silky tresses of his hair. She pressed him against her shamelessly, her words turning into incoherent noises. She rocked against him, desperate and frantic, feeling on the verge of something powerful.

His finger joined his tongue and the sensation rocked her. "Taste…so bloody irresistible," he said. "I knew it would be like this."

The rhythm he kept was almost unbearable as he picked up the pace and worked her faster. Each flick of his tongue had her moaning, feeling indescribable sensations. He broke away and she made a whimper of protest, feeling suddenly empty. He relieved himself of his underwear and crawled back on top of her, his fingers quickly finding her sensitive flesh.

His face was strained and his body was tense as she felt him poised at her entrance. Her hands curved around his neck, anchoring herself securely around him, feeling his muscles and tendons shift underneath her hands.

He wrapped a hand around her waist, tilting her up, choking out a hiss as his tip brushed against her heat. Her heart hammered in her chest, and dizziness surged as she was overcome with sensations. He looked so carefully guarded as he wrestled for control. He hesitated for a moment before he slid himself fully and completely inside of her. His arm tightened around her and his eyes were screwed shut. She felt no pain, just a brief moment of discomfort as she got used to the feeling of fullness. His grunts and her heavy breathing filled the room. The discomfort gave way to pleasure, and she felt herself quiver in anticipation.

He winced at the movement. "So bloody tight," he groaned. "For fuck-sake, I have to move. I'm sorry."

She wasn't sure why he needed to apologize. All she wanted was for him to _move_. And move he did.

The rhythm he set was slower than she would have liked, but pleasant just the same. She found it easy to move with him, as if instinctive. She only wished he'd pick up the pace. His hand pulsed over her stomach leaving fiery trails from his touch. She wrapped her legs around his waist, digging her fingernails into his shoulders, and his eyes snapped open, wild and hungry.

He kissed her as he ground against her, fiery and demanding. His pace grew faster, brought on by her movements which urged him to move. She met each snap of his hips, reveling in the powerful sensations that rocked her more forcefully than the last. His mouth dropped to her neck, finding her pulse point and she hummed in approval.

He adjusted his angle, changing his position just slightly, but it was enough to make him come in direct contact with a sweet spot that had her letting out a low moan, digging her heels into his sides. His fingers found her clit and clumsily drew slow circles around it. He was edging her towards delirium and it wasn't long before her pleasure hit her— _hard and fast_. Her vision splintered and her toes curled, as she clamped down erratically around him.

It was enough to send him over the edge. A violent tremor through his body was the only warning she had before he gave one last, powerful thrust, gripping her tightly as he emptied inside of her.

She held him to her, feeling oddly as if she were floating in some dreamlike state. For once, she was blissfully unaware of the emptiness that seemed to constantly plague her. He rolled over onto his side and scooped her up against him. He felt safe and warm. _My protector_ , she thought. She could soak in the warmth of his scent forever. She was content to be held safely in the arms of Draco—her new husband.

* * *

"Of course you can go anywhere in the manor you like." Draco chanced a glance at Hermione who was looking around curiously. The late morning sun flooded through the open windows, making it look as if there was a halo surrounding her honey brown curls. "However, you must stay within the manor."

"Why must I?" Her eyes were bright, expectant, and oddly trusting. _So fragile._ The thought hit him like an expulso to the chest. A fierce desire to protect her welled up deep inside him.

"It's just safer that way," he answered simply. "Though you can take a stroll through the gardens, so long as you're accompanied by someone."

She nodded her understanding.

"You need only summon Mimsy should you want of anything and she will appear."

"Like magic?"

He chuckled. "Yes, _exactly_ like magic." They rounded the corner and Draco pointed out the dining room as they continued their tour. "You know," he said offhandedly, "you know how to do magic too."

"I do?"

"That's right. I know it's been awhile since you were… _able to_ …but we can work on it together if you like. I have a spare wand."

"I would like to," she nodded eagerly. She gestured to an open door on the left of them. "What's this room?"

"The ballroom where Mother puts on her parties, but just this way," he steered her further down the hall, "is the library. You still like those, right?" He grinned mischievously.

"I think so."

"There's a great many books. I imagine you won't be able to read them in a lifetime."

"Doubtful," she countered, and Draco looked up suddenly to see her brows were furrowed. She seemed as confused by her own comment as he was.

The real Granger would probably be as volatile as a hippogriff at this point, accusing him of taking advantage, and maybe he had, but it was all worth it. What other choice was there? It had sickened him to imagine her locked up in Azkaban, being kept on the edge of sanity and reason by the Dementors. Sure, he shared a responsibility for her capture in the first place, but he did what he _had_ to do. His parents depended on him, and Voldemort's first-in-command trained him herself. There was no fooling his Aunt Bella.

During the fighting, he had come to admire Granger from afar. It seemed that the sentiments he held during school were no more, the jealousy and resentments he'd felt had vanished. It was unfortunate they had been on opposite sides of the war, keeping her far out of his reach. He resented the fact that he had to be the one to turn her in. As the years passed, the guilt he felt for what he did to her had only intensified. It was only natural for him to take advantage of the situation he'd been presented with. _And now I have her_ , _against all odds_ , he thought with a surge of triumph. _She is mine._

* * *

Jean liked to practice magic. Whenever Draco would let her hold that odd little stick he called a wand, she loved the way the power seemed to thrum through her hand.

She liked to feel powerful.

After so much time spent following the will of others, it was nice to feel like she had some control. Other things made her feel powerful too—like sex with Draco. Not only had she come to crave their time together, but she rarely thought about the desolate emptiness anymore. It was quite lovely, and she thought this truly must be paradise.

She curled up next to him, letting out a contented sigh as he started caressing her side.

"Draco," she said tentatively. "Why must you leave?"

He sighed. "I have a job to do, unfortunately." He turned to give her a scoundrel-like smile. "Otherwise, do you think I'd ever willingly leave you?"

"I wish you could refuse."

"I wish I could too, but you'll have plenty of things to do. I'm sure you can waste hour after hour in the library."

"But who will teach me magic?" Her lips were set in a mock pout. "How will I ever learn how to lift things in the air and float them to me?"

He laughed, one of those genuine laughs only ever reserved for her. "That's not all magic is for, silly."

"Oh?" She placed her elbow on the bed, resting her palm on her chin. "I haven't seen you do much else."

"Some things I'd rather you not see," he muttered darkly.

Jean hated when he got those far-off, haunted looks. It reminded her of the times when he tried to 'jog her memory,' another thing she despised. She was happy he was at least not pushing that agenda tonight.

"What else can you do with that oh-so-powerful-wand-of-yours?" she challenged.

He gave her a wily smirk before flicking his wand and snuffing out the light in the sconces. She felt nervous anticipation surge as the room was bathed in darkness. Over the past few nights, she had developed a huge amount of trust for her husband. Anything he introduced her to was always bound to be pleasurable, eventually.

She heard a swooshing sound and was surprised to see pink glittering flowers and some kind of insect— _flitterbies_ —the familiar voice in her head informed her, sprout out from the tip of his wand. They floated to the ceiling and she watched the charming conjurings dance and shimmer above them. Her eyes sparkled as she stared, entranced by the impressive display of magic.

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

He was content to simply watch her. "You're beautiful."

* * *

Forcing her eyes open, Jean noticed her bedroom chamber was dimly lit and she wondered if she had slept through until the evening like she had the day before. She soon realized that was not the case when she straightened and saw light peaking through the shutters. It was likely early afternoon and she'd only taken a small nap.

But now she was awake, and that presented a problem.

What was she supposed to do now that Draco had left for his campaign? He'd kept her thoroughly entertained and she couldn't imagine spending her days without him. Feelings of dread welled up inside her and she lamented the loss of her protector—even if just for a short while. He didn't even bother leaving the wand for her to practice with, putting some kind of 'ward' on it. When she asked what it was for, he simply said it was just in case she 'remembered,' whatever that meant. He had suggested she peruse through the massive library Malfoy Manor boasted of so that seemed like a good place to start.

After she summoned Mimsy to prepare her a snack, she headed to the library. Upon entering the large room, she smiled at the pleasant smell that filled her nostrils—it was rather comforting. The Malfoy library was a combination of reds, browns, and golds, in stark contrast to the rest of the manor. She wasn't exactly sure why she felt so at home, but she found herself quite at ease and eager to explore the place.

Wandering further inside, her eyes were drawn to the large tomes and scrolls. It was all so achingly familiar and she couldn't fathom as to why books should garnish such a response from her. Her fingers trailed over the spines of the books, her eyes darting from one to the other. She finally selected one at random, simply titled _Magical Places and Where to Find Them_. The book had brilliantly colored moving images.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, pressing her back against the book shelf. An odd thrill ran through her as she opened the book on her lap. Her eyes flew over the words, happy to find she could decipher them. What really dazzled her were the moving images displaying places she could never even dreamed existed in the world. She pondered on how wonderful it would be to travel to such places. Draco had promised he would take her flying, perhaps they would visit places such as these?

She flipped the vibrant colored page and her eyes landed on a picture that made her stomach twist violently. Her eyelids fluttered and her temples throbbed.

It was a picture of a castle sitting high above a lake. Edging the castle was an ancient forest. The leaves of the trees swayed gently by a breeze.

Her eyes screwed shut once more as visions of inside the castle flooded her mind. A massive hall with four different colored tables, a red and gold room warmed by a bright fire burning peacefully in the hearth, a dungeon with steaming cauldrons, numbers and runes and the smell of parchment…she snapped the book shut, confused to find tears streaming down her cheeks.

What was wrong with her? Draco had only been gone a few days and who knew how long it would be until he returned. She would simply have to learn how to cope on her own. It would never do to be an emotional wreck when he returned to her. With more force than she intended, she thrust the book back into the shelf and selected another. She hoped his campaign would be a short one.

* * *

"Take a better look at it, Granger. Look at their faces. Does that mean anything?" Draco thrust the old Hogwarts newsletter at her.

"Stop calling me 'Granger,'" she demanded. "I hate it! And why should a picture, _even a moving picture_ , of two boys, mean anything to me?"

"Forget the Gryffindor Quidditch team. How about this, from the Daily Prophet?" He held up the old article. "I know you recognize this."

She stomped her foot, brows furrowed in displeasure. " 'Undesirable Number One,' " she read.

"This was Harry—he was your world. You loved him more than _anything._ "

"I love you— _you're my world_."

Draco looked pained by her statement. "Love is a multi-faceted concept." He paused in his pacing before sitting down heavily. "Harry was your friend, take another look."

Harry. The word disturbed her more than any of the other silly words he'd been throwing at her for the past two weeks since he'd returned. She could tell he was getting frustrated with her. He would say she was on the verge of remembering, but she didn't know this 'remembering,' nor did she wish to do it. All she wanted was to be in his arms. She could tell he wanted it too, so why did he complicate things so?

"Harry and Ron," he tried again, "I know you can't possibly forget them."

"I don't know those words, _Harry and Ron_ ," she growled. "I hate them and I don't care for your 'pictures'—they mean _nothing_ to me!"

He regarded her suspiciously. "You _have_ to remember."

"Why? I don't care! I like how things are _now_. Why must you try to change things? They are good."

"You must, Granger."

"I hate that word!"

"Fine. Jean," he placated.

"Why must you be so difficult? I don't care about this, and I don't have to listen!" Her head pounded and her stomach clenched. "I don't see why you care in the first place—it's all your bloody fault— _ferret_!"

His head whipped around. "What'd you say?" he asked sharply.

Her skull throbbed. "I don't know." She gave her head a desperate shake. "Please, my head hurts."

"Ferret, tell me about that!"

"I've never heard that word before," she lied.

"Rubbish, you have and you used it often. You, Weasley, and Potter. You used to call me that back at Hogwarts."

"I don't want to talk about this 'Hogwarts,' " she raged. "Please! I just want to be here with you! It's safe and I like it. Don't force me back to that empty place!"

"You have to fill that emptiness with something," he argued. "Before somebody else fills it and then you'll be ruled by them forever."

An idea came to her mind, one that _always_ worked. "You can fill it," she offered distractedly. She sat sideways on his lap and dropped her head to the hollow of his neck. "I don't care if you do."

His mouth tightened and his eyes darkened. He looked perfectly divided in his desire, but Jean was sure she could sway him to her side.

"It's okay," she said soothingly. "I don't mind."

"But you will, and you'll hate me for it." His face was etched in an expression that could only be described as sincere.

 _Preposterous_ , she thought. He said strange things sometimes. Just now, it wasn't words that she wanted to hear from him. "I could never hate you," she promised. "You're my husband and my protector."

"Sometimes I wish you'd stay like this," he admitted, nuzzling her neck the way she liked. She dragged her fingers seductively over his bare chest.

He didn't push her anymore with words she deplored hearing, so she had no need to argue with him further. He kissed her savagely. His tongue plundered her mouth, he kissed her until she could no longer speak.

Speaking was no longer on her mind. The only thing she wanted to do was wrap her lithe and limber body—toned from many nights spent in his arms—tightly around him and never let go.

She kissed him back eagerly, her eyelids fluttering shut, as dizziness overwhelmed her. She gripped his shoulders for balance, delighting in the way his palm pressed into the small of her back. She surrendered completely, throwing her legs on either side of his as she ground against the hard bulge of his trousers. With a desperate groan, he slanted his mouth over hers with deliberate possession, leaving her panting, as a stab of pleasure shot down low in her belly.

"Draco," she breathed, her voice coming out like a raspy plea.

She searched frantically for the hem of his trousers, her fingers flying to the fastenings as a violent tremor wracked through him. He yanked her dressing gown over her head and she found herself lying flat on his velvet sofa. He crawled on top of her, trailing torturously light kisses up her chest as he dragged himself up her body. When she felt his fingers brush over her silk knickers, a whimper escaped her throat and there was a knowing glint in his eyes. He kissed her once more, his fingers moving in decadent patterns over her knickers before slipping inside.

It wasn't long before he had her squirming. Her back arched and she bucked into his hand, every nerve ending on fire. He didn't tease her for long. He divested himself completely of his loosened trousers and lined himself up with her. He wasted no time entering her desperately, a hungry look of raw need on his face she found herself enthralled by.

She submitted to his movements, and stunning sensations bloomed dark and burning with each snap of his hips. She could hardly keep up with his pace that was quickly becoming erratic. His fingers flew down to where they were joined, and then she could hardly focus on anything else but indescribable pleasure. Harsh breaths tore out of his mouth and it wasn't long before he came, hard and shuddering.

Later, exhausted yet floating contently on the aftermath high of their lovemaking, Draco cleared his throat. She was far too tired to resume their previous conversation and hoped he wouldn't try to talk with her. It was far too tempting to let the blissful blackness of sleep envelop her. Moments passed and she felt herself drifting.

"What did you wear to the Yule Ball?" he asked quietly.

"Periwinkle dress robes from Madam Malkin's. I went through an entire jar of Sleekeazy's just to tame my hair."

He swore but she didn't hear, already rolling over onto her side and surrendering to sleep.

* * *

She had always been certain of her actions, ruled by logic and rationality. She rarely ever doubted herself, or gave up the reins, so waking up the next day after their frantic coupling, she realized quite immediately—she remembered _everything_.

She supposed it came to her through dreams, vaguely she recalled flickers of her life playing behind her eyelids almost like a Muggle film as she slept.

Regardless of the how or why, one thing was certain—she was Hermione Granger—and she was back.

* * *

What does one do when they wake up after years of parading as a different person entirely? Hermione wasn't sure of the answer. Somehow, she had come to think of Malfoy and his family as her safe haven. Ironic, really, considering the Death Eaters were responsible for her world crumbling in the first place. After years of doing a shite job of holding onto her reason and sanity, suppressing her memories to the point to where she lost essential components of herself, she realized with exact accuaracy, that it was Malfoy she had to thank for getting it back.

 _I don't care_ , she seethed. _He took advantage of me—they all did! They forced me into a marriage I'm bound to. I simply have to escape._ She resolved to do just that. She would play Jean a little longer in order to catch them unawares and make her getaway.

Shuffling through Malfoy's drawer, she found his spare wand they'd been practicing with, unguarded. She broke through the ward easily, putting her wandless magic to use. She raised it in the air, calling to her magic, and felt it actually thrum through her hand. She transfigured a holster of sorts underneath her dress on her thigh, and headed down to breakfast.

Of course Malfoy was not alone, flanked by the ever-present Theo Nott. She mumbled her greetings, keeping her head slightly tucked. Hermione just wished for once Nott could be at his own manor with his own wife. Memories came flooding back to her of conversations she'd been privy to. She now remembered that Nott didn't care very much for his father. Still, he was a right git and she shot him a look of disgust when he wasn't looking.

"How did you sleep, Jean?" Nott asked in between mouthfuls.

Hermione took a calming breath as she attempted to play the role of daft and demure Jean. "Very well, _Lord Nott_ , thank you for asking."

"You're quite lucky you don't have duties like the rest of us, Jean. What I wouldn't give to retire in luxury without a care in the world."

Malfoy shot Nott a withering look.

"Oh yes, I'm _dead lucky_." It was all she could do to keep her voice light.

She turned her attention back to the sweetened fruit in front of her, but it was difficult to eat with the knots that were forming in her stomach.

"Would you like to go flying today, Jean?" Malfoy asked, and Hermione bristled inwardly. "We would stay within the manor grounds, of course."

"I'm awfully frightened of heights, Draco," she nearly choked on his first name. "Perhaps some other time? I'd very much like to read my book in the greenhouse, if you don't mind."

He eyed her shrewdly before his face fell back into it's perfectly controlled mask. "Not at all," he said, inclining his head.

She finished her meal, her head pounding so hard she could hardly tune into what Malfoy and Nott were discussing. She quickly excused herself, and forced herself to walk slowly to the greenhouse. She scanned the area, the canopy of lavender and white flowers blurring in front of her, before she fled for the exit. She ducked under the arborway and made a break for the cluster of ancient dogwood trees that edged the manor parameter.

Hoping she was concealed behind the fringe of trees, she sensed immediately the powerful Malfoy wards from only several feet away. She gripped the stolen cherrywood wand fiercely, summoning her magic in dark, angry waves. It crackled and skipped around her, stretching playfully like a wild cat, begging to be put to use. She stared determinedly through the invisible wards to the open countryside of Wiltshire, hoping she could break through.

Before she had the opportunity to try it, she felt a strong hand grasp her wrist. Her heart hammered in her chest and her breathing hitched as she wrenched her arm away. _Bloody Morganna—not him—not now_! So many feelings assaulted her at the same time but she felt one that was stronger than them all and she reached for it desperately. "Malfoy," she hissed, whirling on the wizard and training her wand at his chest. "Back way—I'm warning you."

"Granger," he swallowed thickly. "Going to attack your own husband?" He chuckled darkly. "I knew you'd return eventually, but I must admit; I think I'll miss Jean."

"How dare you," she raged.

He put his hands up in surrender. "Just breath, Granger. You can't do any permanent damage to me anyway. The vows, remember?"

She held her wand steadily. "I can have fun trying. Besides, what can you possibly have to say for yourself?" He sighed and she continued, undeterred. "Just because my mind had… _slipped_ , was no reason for you to take advantage of me!"

He winced and turned away. Some silly part of her wanted him to look back at her so she could read his expression. "You won't simply be able to leave, Granger. There are wards, the Dark Lord's own spells."

"I don't care—I _can_ break them."

"I'm sure you can, but you'd have the entire newly rebuilt snatcher division descending down on you. I advise caution."

"I care _not_ for your advice— _you used me_." The charge lay heavily in the air. "I had no say _whatsoever_ …"

He deliberately faced her accusatory stare. "You seemed to enjoy it well enough." It was the wrong thing to say. She summoned her magic, allowing it to culminate around them. It fizzled ominously as it pressed up against Malfoy in all it's oppressive glory. He swore. "Sorry, Granger. That wasn't what I intended…I didn't mean…"

She ignored his apology. "That's hardly fair, _Malfoy_. The things they did to me," her voice caught and she took a deep breath before continuing, "it made a hole so big and so empty, I'd fill it with _anything,_ even _you_ ," she spat. She took a step towards him, her face set in righteous fury. "You go to Azkaban and have the Dementors suck you to a dry, indistinguishable husk, day after day. You're only a shell of your former self. See if you wouldn't try to fill the emptiness with anything other than emptiness."

"I know-"

"No, you really don't!" She pointed her wand higher, realizing she'd let it drop slightly. "I'll kill you for what you've done to me."

"Regretfully, you can't, or else maybe I'd let you. Your _Avada_ would simply shrivel up and die."

"There are other ways," she insisted.

"Just hear me out and lower your wand." He took a tentative step forward.

"Like hell I will."

"I have your best interests in mind."

Her eyes darkened with displeasure. "Like you did when you turned us in?"

"I did what I had to survive."

"You were cowardly," she countered.

"I'm trying to do better now."

" _Nothing_ can forgive what you did. You got the only person that could kill Vol-, _You-Know-Who_ , murdered." She realized she was panting slightly, her chest heaved up and down. She noticed the muscles of her forearm were tensed, muscles she was horrified to remember gaining thanks to nights spent in various positions with him. She flushed despite herself, glancing up in panic, only to find stormy silver eyes boring into hers. She swallowed audibly.

"Listen, Granger-"

"No, I won't! You're pathetic, Malfoy. I despise you!"

"You have every right to hate me, but…don't forget who got you out…who _believed_ in you…who _forced_ you to remember."

"If you expect my thanks you're _not_ getting it."

"My point is…I'm your husband and like it or not—we're bound. You want revenge, _I get that_ , and I can help you.."

"Keep talking."

"Everything isn't lost. There's still hope for you're idyllic future." His eyes flickered over hers and she felt a stab of induced longing. She forced the notion away, defending against it with righteous fury. "A new rebellion has risen up, in Algiers. The resistance is hidden deep in the jungle. It's where _he's_ been sending us. Snape is-"

"Snape is a traitor," she roared, tears springing unbidden to her eyes. To her horror, it looked like Malfoy wanted to reach for her.

"No, he's been loyal this whole time. He's been mentoring me. It took a while to gain his trust, but now he's confided in me." She had the sudden inclination that she was spinning, and wished desperately to hold onto reason, lest her sanity flee her again. This was wrong, _so wrong_. Malfoy couldn't mean to make her believe everything she knew was reversed? "There's more. I can tell you everything… _I want to_ , but I have to teach you Occlumency first." Her legs shook and her vision blurred at the edges of her eyes. She wanted badly for something stable to hold onto. She wasn't sure if Malfoy sensed the way she wavered, or how she swayed precariously, but he stepped forward, carefully as if approaching a lone kelpie. "I guess what I'm saying is…Granger, will you give me a chance?"

He reached his hand out to her and the desire to take it nearly overwhelmed her. The wheels of her head spun frantically as the craving to accept his help flared hot and burning in her chest. She reached for his outstretched hand, relishing in the warm feel of his fingertips. He held on to her firmly, the only solitary thing in the buzzing, spinning madness that surrounded her.

"Malfoy," she choked. "I…I want to know _everything_."

"Of course you do, Granger. Let me help you, love."

She didn't argue any further as she looped her arm through his and allowed him to lead them both back to the manor. What other option was there? She had no idea how to navigate through this new, Voldemort controlled world. Her best bet lie with Malfoy… _for now_.

* * *

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	6. Crossing Paths

**Wordsmiths & Betas Marriage Law One Shot Writing Competition**

\- Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. You will find this information at the bottom of each entry. Thank you for reading!

 **Title: Crossing Paths**

 **Rating: T**

 **Genre: Romance, Comedy**

 **Pairing: Scorpius Malfoy / Rose Weasley**

 **Triggers: None**

 **Warnings: None**

 **Disclaimer:** All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the authors represented here are profiting from these stories.

* * *

 **Crossing Paths**

* * *

"This is ridiculous! We don't even live in England." Scorpius Malfoy seethed. Throwing down the parchment onto the breakfast table, his father continued to eat as he went on. "Why must I comply with this stupid law when we live in Paris?"

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, his son's rant was giving him a headache, he got that talent from his mother. Fighting with his wife was a losing battle, she always won, either because she was just brilliant or he just wanted to shut her up and shag her quiet. "Scorpius, we may not live there, but we still have to comply with their laws. I'm sure your mother will find a way to fight this, but for now, please eat your breakfast, we have to be at the English ministry in a couple of hours."

"Is mother coming with us?" Scorpius asked as he finally sat in his chair to his plate of pastries and eggs. "I thought she had a class this morning and then a shipment at the store."

Draco laughed, "Yes, well she does have to be there for the delivery, Merlin forbid someone else accepts the boxes before she can sniff each one."

"I heard that," Scorpius and his father both laughed as her voice travelled from the entry hall, "I will see you both there. I have to go, they just floo'd and the delivery will be a bit earlier so I have to end class sooner than normal. Love you both!" and they heard the fire roar to life and her muffled voice call out her destination.

Draco chuckled, "She didn't even come in to say goodbye, almost twenty years of marriage and I've been reduced to a floo bye."

Scorpius smirked, "Be careful father, I think you've been replaced by the yoga studio. Mother might have a thing going on with one of those firm muggles."

Draco smirked right back at his son. "I doubt that son I've been to those classes, and let's just say your mother has never complained. She is a hellcat that woman, she's very limber." Scorpius groaned, knowing what his father was saying and Draco chuckled.

"Merlin, you realise I'm your son?" Scorpius stabbed at a piece of fruit, "I don't need to know of your copulations with my mother. It is bad enough I have to knock on every door before I enter. I'm afraid of walking into something that would make me wish to be blind again," said Scorpius with a shudder...

Draco's grin broadened and Scorpius just shook his head, his parents were fairly embarrassing. They had been married for over eighteen years and they were still hot for each other. Most of his friend's parents didn't even sleep in the same room, sometimes not even the same wing and his parents were going at it like rabbits. But he guess it was healthier to shag like teens than to dry up and be angry all the time.

Scorpius finished his breakfast and went to get changed for the trip back to England. His parents were both English, he was actually born at Malfoy Manor as was his father and his younger sister, Lyra. It was Malfoy tradition for all Malfoys to be born on their ancestral land, believed to ensure magic stayed within their blood.

This also meant they were all English citizens, which is why he was subjected to this ridiculous law. If he had been born in France, where they lived, he would have been exempt. Scorpius did not believe himself as English, yes he had been born there, but he had lived his whole life in France, gone to school at Durmstrang and only went to England to visit his grandparents.

The thought that the English ministry had control over who he would marry was unthinkable. Okay, maybe not unthinkable, they had tried to do the same to his father, but Draco Malfoy was already engaged to be married to his mother and living in France. Their union was approved so nothing came of it, it had been eighteen years, surely the population was stable, but turns out, it hadn't been replenished enough and the marriage law continued.

Dressed in dark grey trousers, he was sure his father and grandfather would sneer at him wearing jeans to the ministry, a hunter green button down shirt and black vest. He spiked his platinum blond hair the way he liked and slipped on his dragon hide boots.

Going downstairs he saw his father was no longer alone, but talking with his long time friend and family solicitor, Blaise Zabini. The two men were discussing what to expect that day when they noticed Scorpius walk in.

Blaise smiled at his Godson, "Good morning Scor, are you ready?"

"You mean for my life to end? Sure, point me to the firing squad, maybe mum will let me have a muggle cigarette before my impending death." Scorpius said dryly.

Blaise chuckled, "It won't be quite that bad, Scorpius. Arranged marriages are common among pureblood families." Scorpius rolled his eyes, "Your father only slipped out of one when his bride ran away to marry that Italian artist, Felipe. Luckily, he found your mother and fell in love."

"It's 2018 for Merlin's sake, _arranged_ marriages should be outlawed, along with bloody marriage laws." Scorpius whined as the walked to the floo. "I mean, it's one thing for you and dad, you two are like _ancient_." Scorpius smirked and ducked as his Godfather aimed at punch at his arm, Scorpius chuckled and continued, "But I am at the prime of my sexual awakening, I should be sowing my wild oats, not hitching my cart to one horse for a lifetime. I went to an all boys school for Gods sakes, do you know how hard it is to find a date?"

Blaise chuckled at his Godson, "I'm pretty sure there were plenty of _hard_ dates at Durmstrang, so not bad at all."

Draco laughed as Scorpius grimaced at the thought of his friends. "Oh, do me a favor Scorp, tell your mum about the ancient part and the hitching your cart to a horse," Blaise laughed now too as Scorpius realised what his father meant, "I'm sure she'll enjoy the muggle reference."

Scorpius sputtered, trying to back pedal his words and his father just grinned even wider, his son really needed to relax.

* * *

After stopping at the manor to say hello to his grandmother and drop off their bags, the three men and Lucius Malfoy went on to the Ministry of Magic to find out who his new bride was to be.

Arriving by floo, they stopped at the visitors desk to get passes for the three Malfoy men. Blaise, being a member of the Ministry Law Review, had his own for when he was working cases. Getting into the lift, they left the atrium and went down to the fifth floor, the marriage registrar office. The office was full of people waiting for their appointment, but upon seeing the three platinum heads of the Malfoy men,the room went very still and suddenly all eyes were on them.

Scorpius leaned into his father, "Friendly bunch aren't they?" and Draco bit back a laugh, but Scorpius saw his father's lip twitch. Scorpius was always awed how different his father was when they were in England versus when they were in France.

Growing up, his father had been the epitome of pureblood aristocracy. His mother would call him a pompous prat, but his father would just grin and tell her she loved his pompous arse and then, well by then, Scorpius would leave the room… rabbits, his parents. His father's family had been on the wrong side of the war and he had moved to France to continue schooling at the prestigious potions academy, his mother had forgiven him his transgressions, knowing exactly who he was in his past and who he was in the present. They had all made mistakes was all she ever said about it.

A family came in with red hair. Taking one look at his father, Scorpius knew the father of this family was not friends with his. Scorpius looked on curiously as his grandfather also sneered at the man, though that was not surprising, his grandfather sneered a lot when he was not at home, it was the Malfoy way. The red haired man glared back at his father and grandfather. He gave Scorpius a once over and glowered at him as well.

"Malfoy," The man spat out, like their surname was a dirty word, "What are you doing here?"

"Weasel," Draco sneered back, "This is the marriage registrar office, one would assume that would mean we are here about a marriage."

"Whose marriage Ferret? Your wife finally come to her senses and divorce you so you have to marry a half blood or even worse, a muggle born?" The red haired man taunted Draco.

Scorpius raised a platinum eyebrow as Draco chuckled. "Not that it's any of your business, but my son is getting married, he has received his letter and is here for his interview. Now run along like a good little fame seeker, I'm sure Potty needs his shoes polished." Scorpius noticed the man's ears turn bright red as well as the blonde woman next to him huffed in indignation.

"Draco, Scorpius." Blaise called them from the front of the room, "Come on, they're ready for us."

Draco tilted his head ever so slightly to the man and his wife, "Weasel, Mrs. Weasel." and walked away. Scorpius chuckled after his father. Sometimes he could see what his mom said, his father was truly an ass. He caught the eye of the red haired girl who looked around his age, he winked and tossed her a famous Malfoy smirk, knowing it would piss off her dad. She looked at him in confusement and turned away.

"I feel like I need the Darth Vader theme song as we walk," Scorpius whispered to his father and Grandfather. Lucius just looked confused but Draco chuckled as they walked over to Blaise. Scorpius just grinned broadly at his grandfather and Lucius mumbled something about ridiculous muggles and a small twitch of his mouth.

The four men were escorted to a conference room where a tiny witch was sitting at the far end. She gestured for the men to have a seat while she finished glancing over the papers in front of her. The men sat and only a moment later the little witch looked up with a tight smile.

"Messrs Malfoy and Mister Zabini," The witch began, "My name is Simone Blakely, I am your mediator for these proceedings. I understand that young Mister Malfoy might have some questions as to what will be happening in the next few months."

Scorpius rolled his eyes, "You might say that. Like why am I mandated to marry when I don't live in the country, I never even come to Britain unless to see my Grandparents, I didn't even attend Hogwarts!"

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose again, "We've been over that Scorp, move it along."

"Fine," Scorpius crossed his arms like a petulant child, "Who is the lucky bint-" Blaise chuckled while Lucius shot his grandson a glare, "er, I meant young lady?"

"Before we talk about your intended, we must discuss the points of the law." She ignored the roll of Scorpius' eyes and continued, "The Marriage Law was brought back into the Wizarding community because our numbers had dwindled significantly after the last Wizarding War. We had hoped after introducing the law a few years after the war, the population would grow and we could do away with the archaic law."

"So you agree, this law is barbaric?" Draco asked, chuckling inwardly at the words he had taken straight from his wife's mouth, then shifted his legs as he remembered what they did almost directly after, she was just too beautiful during one of her long winded rants, he had to have her. She had better uses with her mouth than to continue with her dietribe.

The witch looked over at Draco, "Sir, it is neither here nor there what my personal feelings over the law is, my job is to uphold it. To continue on, we had hoped the population would stabilize, but with the most recent outbreak of Dragon Pox to hit the nation, the law has to go on." Simone looked down at her paperwork, "Now, once you have met your fiance and finalise all agreements, you will have six months to be bonded and another two years to bring children into your union. I will go ahead and bring in your bride."

The witch left the men to themselves while she walked down the hall to retrieve the bride. Scorpius felt sick to his stomach. He mentally made note of all the French girls he knew that he could get married to, but in reality, he went to Durmstrang. All the Beauxbaton girls that he knew were friends of his sister. Fifteen year olds didn't quite do it for him. He liked his girls to be… well… legal for one. Most of his parents friends had boys, maybe he should… Scorpius shook his head, no, he would rather marry a stranger than finish that thought. Cock wars did not tickle his fancy, no matter if he had gone to Durmstrang.

"Six months? That is not enough time to plan a wedding. Narcissa will have a conniption." Lucius argued. Draco just shook his head and sniggered. He knew what his father was thinking, he was thinking about the fact that Draco did not have a wedding. Draco was so in love with his witch that they had done it on the spur of the moment, three months into their relationship. Scorpius had heard all about it, his grandmother still holding out hope for a grand Malfoy wedding. He wondered if she would be able to pull it off in six months, Narcissa Malfoy was a wonder when it came to events.

The door opened and all Scorpius could see was red. Literally, the family of redheads, the Weasels?... walked in. At once the father turned even redder than his hair, Scorpius wasn't sure that was even possible, and began shaking his head.

"No, there is no way my daughter is getting married to this son of a Death Eater."

Scorpius leaned over to his father and asked, "I thought the muggle reference was _son of a bitch_?" Surprisingly Blaise and his father began to laugh and even Lucius began to chuckle. Looking confused, Scorpius turned his grey eyes to the red haired father, "Did you just call my father a Death Eater?"

"It's what he is," The man spat, staring daggers at Scorpius, "and my daughter will never marry into your family."

Not one to back down from a verbal sparring, he was his parents child after all, Scorpius jumped out of his chair and stared the man square in the eye, "My father was never a Death Eater, my Grandfather may have been when he was a little older than I am now, but only because his father petrified him as they put the mark upon his arm. You don't know my family and I certainly don't wish to know yours, but what are we to do? My mother has already tried anything she can think of to get my out of this arrangement, I wish she had tried harder, maybe I wouldn't be stuck with a red haired freak as a father in law!"

"Why you little-" The man reached for his wand but stopped as he felt a wand poke him in the back.

"Don't you dare pull a wand on my son Ronald Bilius Weasley," Hermione Malfoy warned as she shoved her wand deep in his scapula. His wife, Lavender gasped in surprise at her ex roommate's appearance. Hermione reached over and grabbed Ron's wand out of his hand.

"Show me your wand Lavender." Hermione ordered as she poked Ron hard in the back as penance for almost pointing a wand at her son. Hermione looked at the blonde and her eyes narrowed, "Now! This is a meeting and I will not have you or your husband pulling out wands at my family." She looked over at the young girl and gave a small smile, "Hello dear, if you would please take your parents wands and yours and leave them on the table. Draco, Love, everyone will remove their wands and place them in the table and if ANYONE reaches for one, I will snap your finger, that includes you Draco."

Draco smirked, "Oh Love, I adore when you take control." Scorpius groaned as his grandfather reached over and smacked his father on the back of the head. Blaise chuckled and all four men put their wands on the table.

Rose, not knowing what else to do, took her mother's wand along with her father's and set them on the table away from her dad. Once the wands were put away, Hermione dropped her wand from Ron's back and smacked him hard against his head.

Enraged she began to yell, "How dare you Ron Weasley! How dare you try and pull a wand on a child! You are thirty eight years old, act your age. If you ever try that again, I will hex your ass so fast you'll need a time turner to get back! Of all the idiotic things, I would have thought you would have grown up in twenty years, but you're still a big asshole."

Ron had turned puce, "Oh! What the fuck Hermione! What the bloody hell are you on about? Why are you even-" Ron looked at his old friend, the anger on her face, then over at Draco Malfoy who was grinning broadly and back to Hermione, "Bloody Fucking Hell! You married the Ferret?! You're a Death Eater Whore?"

He pointed an accusatory finger at his friend and Scorpius winced, knowing what was coming. His mother did not take kindly to men who tried to treat her inferior. The Malfoys and Blaise all took a sank back into their chairs as Hermione glanced down at his finger poking her in the shoulder.

Her eyes narrowed even more, becoming slits, as fast as lightning, she grabbed his finger, bent it back towards his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back. Lavender and Rose both screamed in shock as Ron yelped in pain. "Call me that again Ronald, I fucking dare you. I'm not the meek little girl you once knew. Touch me again without my expressed permission and I will break every bone in your fucking hand and I won't even need my wand."

"Good morning Hermione," The deep booming voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt echoed from the door. Hermione pushed Ron away from her and he stumbled into the table.

Hermione walked up to Kingsley and gave him a small hug, "Good morning Kings, how are you today?"

Suddenly Ron reached for his wand and aimed towards Hermione, " _Stupi-_ " Ron had started towards Hermione, but once again, Hermione was quicker, brandishing her wand and cast a nonverbal _Petrificus Totalis!_ Legs and arms snapped close to his body, Ron Weasley fell unceremoniously towards his wife's feet as she screamed, tears flowing freely as she knelt down to her husband.

Hermione turned to Kingsley, "Minister are you alright?"

Kingsley looked down at the small witch and gave her a tight smile. "Yes Hermione, I'm fine, but seeing as Mr. Weasley pulled a wand and aimed it in the direction of the Minister of Magic in front of witnesses, I will have to call the Aurors and have him brought to a holding cell."

Lavender shot up screaming. "What?! She almost broke his hand, he was defending himself! It's Hermione who should be arrested! She shoved a wand in his back!"

Hermione looked at Kingsley and simply stated, "I did, I walked into the room as he was calling my son a Death Eater spawn and right before he tried to aim his wand at my child. I shoved my wand in his back and disarmed him, his wife and his daughter as well as my own family, everyone's wands are on the table. I was just about to put mine in the pile as well when he called me a Death Eater Whore and proceeded to put his hand on me. I do not like to be touched so I removed his hand and asserted myself as someone who does not care to be touched when you walked in. I released him, he is the one who aimed his wand in your direction and tried to cast a minor hex. I don't believe that warrants a cell do you minister?"

Kingsley shook his head, "No, I don't, but as there are witnesses to his outburst as well as witnesses to his drawn wand at me. It is procedure that he be taken into custody. Normally I wouldn't bother and just kick the crap out of him, as we are old friends. Unfortunately, in front of ministry workers, I have to follow protocol. I'm sorry Mrs. Weasley, but your husband will be detained and will not be participating in this meeting." Kingsley turned and sent a patronus to the Head Auror.

Hermione looked down at her former friend, whose eyes were staring daggers at her. "Kingsley, is there another way for the aurors to take him or maybe another conference room with a guard? There are quite a lot of people in the waiting room, this will get back to his father and brother and cause a scene. As we are suppose to be family soon… apparently… my family already has to look the other way when it comes to my father in law," Draco and Blaise both began to snicker and Hermione shot them both a look earning more laughs until Lucius smacked them both in the back of the heads, sometimes it was hard to take them anywhere. "We don't need the papers to announce Ronald Weasley attacks the Minister during Marriage Law meeting. Not good press for anyone."

Kingsley thought over her reasoning and nodded in agreement. Turning to Simone, "Prepare a separate conference room for Mr. Weasley. An auror will be posted at the door during this meeting, Ron will be able to leave after the meeting, this will not be mentioned outside this room." Looking down at Ron, Kingsley spoke to him directly, "This is your only warning Ron, another outburst like that and I will send you to Azkaban for attempting to hex the Minister of Magic. Do I make myself clear?" Kingsley released the body bind and Ron stood, red in the face and nodded in agreement, not trusting his voice. Kingsley turned back to Simone, "send a memo to Arthur Weasley, to come up and represent young Miss Weasley as her head of house for the meeting."

Hermione walked over to her husband and gave him a kiss. "Hello Love, did you miss me?"

Draco smiled warmly at his wife and slid his hand down her back, resting right above indecency, "Of course I did, you didn't give me a proper goodbye this morning."

Scorpius grimaced, "Can you please not? I want to keep the little breakfast I ate this morning down, eighteen years of marriage and you are bloody disgusting. Can we just sit and talk about this upcoming marriage before I vomit?"

Hermione let go of her husband and walked up and hugged her son, "I'm sorry sweetheart, do you want a hug from mummy?"

"Ugh, I must be adopted," Scorpius grumbled as he tried to disentangle himself from his mother. His family laughed at him and he looked over to see his future bride, Rose, hide a small smile. Kingsley had found a seat at the head of the table and was watching the family exchange with amusement. He had been in contact with The Malfoy family for a number of years, consulting with Hermione and Lucius on ministry matters when needed.

"How could you do this Hermione?" Ron raged on, this little family display disgusting him to no end, "How could you marry this Ferret? After everything he put you through, after he tried to kill Dumbledore? He has wished you dead on more than one occasion, not to mention his father! Lucius tried to kill us all!"

Hermione felt her son's arms stiffen and she let go of him and rubbed his arms soothingly. Turning to her former friend, "Everything you say about Draco and Lucius is correct. Believe me when I say I have fought with Lucius on more than one occasion, always ending in a broken chair," she thought for a moment, "Or twelve."

Lucius laughed, "A broken chandelier as well if I remember correctly."

Hermione smirked at her father in law, "I know more than anyone what kind of family I have. Don't think for a second I don't, but Draco is not that idiot second year that called me _Mudblood_ , Lucius is no longer than man who fought for the wrong side a bloody war. I know my family better than you ever could and soon they will be your family as well, so get. The. Fuck. Over. It. Ronald."

"That is not the language of a lady Hermione," A voice chided from the door. Hermione turned and saw Theo Nott standing there

Hermione smiled brightly, "Theo! What are you doing here?"

"I came down on behest of the Head Auror." Theo turned to Kingsley, "Potter is in an interrogation, Minister, he sent me instead. He said something about detaining someone?"

"Great, I'm surrounded by Snakes," Ron grumbled. Just the Arthur Weasley walked in and he, Kingsley, Ron and Theo all moved to the next conference room over as the rest of the group sat awkwardly waiting for the minister and Arthur to return.

Hermione, trying to defuse the situation asked, "So, um Lavender, how have you been? Still working at Witch Weekly?"

Lavender turned her nose up, "No, I take care of my family and our home."

Hermione shook her head in agreement, "How many children do you have?"

Rose answered for her mother, "I have a younger brother, Hugo. He's fourteen, I'm Rose."

Hermione smiled kindly, "That's a beautiful name, I'm sorry your first meeting with my family had to be so explosive."

"Well you did marry Malfoy, Hermione," Lavender shot back, "After everything he did to you as a child!"

Hermione smiled even through the arm that went stuff behind her as Draco was fighting to control his temper. "Yes, I did marry Draco. We met again in Paris where I had moved after I broke up with Ron."

"You dated my father?" Rose asked curiously turning to her mother. "You always said you and dad had been together since Hogwarts?"

Hermione smiled again, "They were, your father thought it would be ok to see the both of us. I thought otherwise and when I found out, we parted ways. See, I was not fond of sharing my fiancé."

Lavender flushed, "He was never yours! He never proposed to the likes of you! You never meant anything to him."

Hermione just smiled brightly, "Of course I never meant anything to him, not the way you did. We were never meant to be together, it's why I gave him back the rin…" She looked at Lavender's left hand to see a small diamond and brightened in recognition, "Oh I see he found a use for it! I'm so glad, he had told me it was a small fortune." She grimaced a bit, "It was never my style." Lavender flushed again, stood up and walked out, Rose following after a hesitant smile to the Malfoy family.

Scorpius looked over at his mother and she bit back a grin, "You really are an evil woman." Draco, Blaise and Lucius all chuckled.

Hermione just smiled, sitting up straight in her chair. "I've known these people far better than your father Scor. I've also been married to your father and dealt with Blaise and Pansy for over twenty years, that was just a little fun for the little tart. Thought she bettered me by sleeping with Ronald, little does she know, she did me a favor."

Draco leaned over to his son, "That is your mother's way of saying, she's ten times more Slytherin than the three of us combined." Looking over at his wife with adoration, "Where did you learn how to be so cunning and sly my love?"

Hermione scoffed, "From your mother of course, that woman is a marvel."

Scorpius laughed, his Grandmother Cissa was incredible. Regal as the day was long, but on her bad side and she made her husband look like a two year old throwing a tantrum.

"Mum, I have to marry into that family? I mean, I don't know about… what's her name again? Violet? Rose… yes, Rose! But her parents are horrid."

"Ron and Lavender are fine," Hermione disagreed, "Ron has always been hot tempered, that is not new, Lavender was always a bit on edge around me because Ron and I were such good friends. Besides, you aren't marrying the parents, you're marrying the girl. If you don't like her parents, then you don't have to see them often. Ron won't want to see you anyways. You look too much like your father." Hermione explained, "Besides, he can't be too happy with me. I broke off our engagement because the bastard was cheating on me with Lavender. I sort of left him with some curses and moved to France."

Scorpius leaned in with that Malfoy smirk, "Sort of left him with some curses? That's mum speak for you almost cursed his bollocks off for being a cheating bastard?"

Hermione flushed, "No, his bollocks are in tact, if his children are any indication, but I'm not sure if he has ever gotten rid of those blemishes I left on his body, let's just say, you won't be seeing him shirtless while swimming… well ever…"

"Hermione, you are suppose to be the adult in your marriage," Lucius reprimand was marred by the twitch of his mouth. After the war and the marriage of his son and the muggleborn witch, he had relaxed considerably. Hermione Granger had calmed the stiff family, it was a sight to see.

Hermione laughed, "I was only nineteen that the time and that prat deserved it and more. But no more about my past, let's get ready for what is sure to be a fun meeting."

Scorpius groaned, "Her family is going to hate me."

Hermione gave her son a one armed hug, "Of course they will sweety, because you're a Malfoy, you get use to it." Lucius reached over and smacked Draco who had chuckled next to his wife, "I blame your father and grandfather, really. Though, last I saw, the Weasleys don't like me much anymore, but I blame Ron for that."

Rose returned with Arthur, Kingsley and Simone, their mediator. Arthur gave Hermione a smile, he had no qualms with the girl. He was not blind to his son's behaviour, not like his wife and some of his children. He was not pleased that his grand daughter would be forced to marry a Malfoy though. The boy looked nice enough and it was true that Hermione was his mother so Arthur knew he had to have grown up better than his father had.

As the group sat around the table Simone began to lay out the law, the recent outbreaks that forced the law to continue and so forth. Scorpius sat there and studied his fiance, for lack of a better term, as the witch droned on.

Rose Weasley was a very pretty witch, no need to deny that. Her strawberry blonde hair was a sight better than her father's bright red. She always seemed to have a smile graced her lips, which he decided were very nice, full and rather kissable looking. Yes, he could have ended up with a worse witch then Rose Weasley, though the thought of her parents were enough to make him cringe.

He had never heard anything good about Ron Weasley from his parents. His father had never liked his mother's former friends, even as children, though Scorpius took that with a grain of salt since he ended up madly in love with his mother only days after they met again in Paris after years of animosity, though he swears that was mainly because of his upbringing and the need to stick to the pureblood life as was necessary for his grandparents to maintain. While they did not believe in it, Lucius had become close to the Dark Lord's side during his reign and he was convinced that he would return. Not staying true to the pureblood ways would have meant death of his family.

After Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and his mother had set out and finally destroyed Voldemort for good and the Malfoy family was sentenced, his grandfather, with one year in Azkaban, subsequent house arrest and restitution, while grandmother was acquitted of all charges as was his father since he had never taken the mark. Scorpius knew his father was suppose to take the mark, the murder of the headmaster was to be his initiation, but as he didn't do it, he was never marked.

He had heard the story several times over the years, especially during the holidays when both he and his sister were home. His parents hated each other, they were on opposite sides of the war, his father watched his mother tortured (what kid doesn't love to hear that about their family right?) How she was involved in with someone (Ron, he now knew) who had hurt her, not really broken her heart, but hurt her enough to move away and his father had moved to get away from his own failed wedding engagement and to go to school.

They met again as his father and uncle took a yoga class, though his mother swears he was trolling for girls and what better place than a muggle yoga class? She almost hexed him as she realised he was staring at her arse. He made it up to her by taking her for coffee and then to dinner and then to… gah… bed. Hermione swore up and down, it took him a bit longer than one day to get her into his father's bed, but Scorpius knew better. His parents were still like teenagers when it came to sex. He was truly surprised they didn't have more children, he would have thought his mother would be on her twelfth child by now. He had walked in on them quite a few times over the years and while his friends didn't mind, that was his mother they were ogling. Fit as she was, they didn't need to see it.

Hermione elbowed her son hard in the ribs, "Ow! Fuck Mum!" Hermione narrowed her eyes and silently chastised her son, "Sorry," he apologised for his language, "Yes, Mum, you elbowed?" Scorpius' Godfather silently laughed behind them.

"The meeting is over Scor," Hermione gestured around and Scorpius realised everyone had been staring at him as he stared absentmindedly at his fiancee, "Maybe you should make plans to spend time with Rose. I'm sure your grandparents wouldn't mind you staying at the manor or maybe Rose would like to come to France for a visit?" Rose's eyes perked up at that possibility, "There is so much to discuss about the wedding."

"What's to discuss?" Scorpius asked confused, "It's not like Grandmother will let us have a word in about it."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, "Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy," He groaned, he got all three names, he was in deep shit, "This may be an arranged marriage, but it is still a marriage and while I love your Grandmother, this is Rose's day, she is the bride and she will want some say in the planning of it."

Scorpius took a look at his bride and gave a small smile, "Would you like to accompany me back to France and discuss the wedding." He asked as politely as he could without any hint of humor, lest his mother's pointy elbows meet his ribs again.

Rose looked at her grandfather, "Um," She began, "My mother and grandmother will want to come as well. I'm sure my mother will have some input about the wedding and my father…" Rose faltered, "Uh, he will want to keep the wedding small, backyard wedding, like everyone before me."

Scorpius frowned, "What do you want? We can have it in the gardens at Mal-"

"NO!" Hermione interrupted, Scorpius jumped slightly, "Sorry Scor, but I know Ron and he will not want Rose getting married at Malfoy Manor."

Scorpius thought about it and then nodded, looking over at Rose, "Well, we can have it wherever you would like. We have a beautiful garden in France as well."

Arthur cleared his throat, "I think Rose's mother and grandmother expect her to marry in our backyard at the Burrow."

Hermione nodded, knowing this would be true, "I understand Arthur, but unfortunately it will not be big enough, knowing Narcissa, she will have all of Wizarding Britain there. Her only grandson, heir to the Malfoy fortune and all that bullsh-," Hermione smirked and faltered as her father in law kicked her chair, "ahem, the Malfoy heir, I'm sure Scorp's wedding had been planned since Draco was born."

Looking over at Rose with a sympathetic smile, "Dear, invite your parents along with your grandparents to come to France. Kingsley will set up a portkey for you for this weekend. You can decide on the garden, if ours does not suffice for you, we will find someplace suitable in size. I will also talk Narcissa down on the guest list." Lucius began but Hermione waved him quiet, something she had picked up from Narcissa, "There is no need for that many people, Scorpius and Rose aren't animals in the zoo Lucius."

"Fine," He conceded, "But I would like to be there when you tell her to trim her guest list," he smirked, "Scorpius can make me some of that muggle snack, that fluffy white stuff with butter, it's quite delicious."

Hermione looked at her father in law and laughed, "Why Lucius Malfoy, you made a muggle joke, I'm impressed, it only took nineteen years of marriage but I think I might be growing on you."

Arthur Weasley sat in a bit of a shock still, to hear the once snide and sarcastic blood purist Malfoy to make muggle jokes with the wizarding world's most famous muggleborn. Times must have changed the Malfoys. He coughed slightly, "I will let the family know Hermione, please expect us for lunch on Saturday." He smiled gently at the woman he once considered a daughter, "I will make sure they all behave, especially Ron and Molly." Standing up and going over to Hermione who stood as well, "I have missed you Hermione, you were always a good influence on Ronald growing up. I'm glad we will be family soon, even if Ron isn't."

Hermione's eyes began to tear slightly and she gave the man a hug, "I've missed you as well Arthur. I'm sorry I lost touch with… well some of the family, but it was better I cut my ties. It worked out though, you have a beautiful grand daughter and one day soon, she will be a wonderful daughter in law." She moved away from Arthur who began to shake Scorpius' hand and walked over to Rose, giving her a small hug, "I'm sorry for the way we met, I do hope you understand. I have no ill feelings towards you or your family really, but I don't stand for people who are disrespectful to my family… well, unjustly at least."

Rose nodded and smiled. Scorpius walked over to Rose and Hermione left them alone for a few minutes.

Scorpius looked at her a bit awkwardly, "Um… I don't really know how to react to you yet, I'm not as posh and polished as my father. My parents didn't raise me to be a posh pain in the arse as my mother always says, but I will try my best to make you happy. Just please give me a chance, don't let your father poison you against me before you get to know me."

Rose smiled, "Well we have six months to get to know each other, Scorpius. We have a completely clean slate. I know what my father thinks about your father, but I will reserve my own judgment. I know a bit about your mother from my Uncle Harry, I know she is a good person. I will give you a chance."

Giving her a brilliant smile, He took her hand and kissed it, just like a proper Malfoy should and promised to owl her as soon as he returned home to finalise plans for that weekend.

* * *

"SCORPIUS MALFOY ARE YOU INSANE?!" A woman's voice echoed through the halls.

"Grandmother, I was just bringing you flowers that we picked for you." Scorpius snickered as he stood there covered in mud next to two great danes, also covered in mud and barking in excitement, "Don't you like them?" He mocked being wounded. Draco and Lucius were bent over, red from laughing so hard as Scorpius held out flowers to his grandmother complete with roots.

"Are you five? You're about to be married and you are acting like a child!" Narcissa cringed as mud dripped from the flowers onto the wood floor, "Your mother is going to avada you!"

Scorpius laughed, "No she won't, I'm a wizard, she won't even know I did it."

Just as he said that, the dogs had decided it would be a good time to shake. Mud went flying all over. Screams echoed in the large room as mud flew onto everything and everyone in the room.

"Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, your mother won't have to kill you, I'll do it with my bare hands, you insolent boy!"

A _Pop!_ Was heard in behind everyone, "Shit," Scorpius said under his breath and began digging for his wand and wordlessly vanished all the mud that had hit the room and what was on him.

"Draco I'm home, sorry I'm late. Adelaide wanted to speak to me about taking another class, but I just couldn't do it." Hermione called from the hall. Walking into the drawing room she saw her family was standing on the other side of the room. "Uh, what's going on?" She asked.

Scorpius just shook his head at his mother, "Nothing, we were just chatting."

Hermione smirked, "Oh really, then why are you holding my flowers in your hands?"

He looked down at his hand, the forgotten buds still there, "Uh, I picked them for you mother, because you're so beautiful," Draco stifled a chuckle and Lucius even bit his cheek to keep from grinning. Narcissa did neither and openly laughed.

Hermione nodded her head, eyes wide, "Oh really Scor, you're so sweet." Scorpius grinned broadly at his mother, "Full of shit, but sweet." The Malfoys all laughed and Scorpius gave him mother a cheeky grin, walked over and gave her a kiss on her cheek, she laughed, "I'm going to go take a quick shower and change."

A few moments later the floo chimed in the greeting room and the family moved to go and greet their guests while Lyra bounded down the stairs. Hermione was still getting dressed so as the Weasleys came out of the floo they only saw Draco, his parents and his children.

Scorpius took a look at Rose, she was dressed in a teal blue shirt and cream colored jacket over a pair of dark brown corduroy trousers. She looked very pretty, he had thought, her eyes popped next to her shirt and her hair seemed to brighten with the colors.

Lyra, not caring about the tension in the room, bounced forward and embraced the red haired girl, "I'm Lyra, Scorpius' sister. You must be Rose, you are far too pretty for my brother." Rose stifled a giggle as the young girl continued to hug her. Scorpius rolled his eyes at Rose and smiled, moving forward, he reached her hand and kissed it.

Lyra bit back a chuckle, never seeing her brother be so chivalrous was a unnerving. Not that Scorpius wasn't a gentleman, but he didn't go around kissing hands a lot.

Scorpius offered his arm to Rose. As she took it, he led her to his grandmother, "Rose, I would like to introduce my Grandmother Narcissa. You've met my father and my grandfather," Narcissa smiled warmly to the young lady, "Grandmother, this is my fiancee, Rose Weasley. I assume you know her parents and grandparents?"

Hermione came walking down the stairs. "Arthur, Molly, it's good to see you both." She said graciously. Molly Weasley pursed her lips. She was still very upset over the hex Hermione left her son after they broke up, but Hermione just smiled like a gracious hostess and finished introductions.

* * *

The planning of the wedding took place over the course of the next few months. Scorpius and Rose decided they would like to be married at a nearby chateau in France. Scorpius had grown up in France and he had always loved the home that Draco wanted to buy it for them as a wedding gift.

"No," Scorpius said, shaking his head at his father. Draco groaned, sometimes Scorpius was like his mother, he knew he was about to dig his heels into the grass.

"Why not Scor?" Draco asked during another meeting, "It's a beautiful home, it's near your mother and I and Rose and you love it, why can't I buy it? It's pureblood custom to buy a home for your children."

"I'm not a pureblood," Scorpius smirked, "And we don't need a home to rival Malfoy Manor, when we are first married."

"Fine, your mother and I will move into it and you two can have this house." Draco tried compromising, he glanced over at his wife whose eyebrow rose above her hairline. He groaned again, that wasn't going to work either.

"What makes you think I want to move out of our home into that one?" Hermione scoffed, "They do not need a house Draco, they can live in the cottage at the end of the property for a while, they will find their own home."

Draco looked over at Rose who sat there watching the exchange, "What do you think Rose?" He asked her, his grey eyes focused on her blue, "You would like a chateau wouldn't you?"

Hermione laughed, "You already bought the bloody thing didn't you?" Draco's shoulders slumped a tad and Hermione laughed harder, "You did, you bloody bought a castle and you didn't tell me."

"I didn't buy it," Draco argued, he sighed, "We already own it, we have for years."

Hermione looked at her husband curiously, "Since when?"

Draco laughed, "Since we got married, my parents bought it for us for a wedding present." He smirked at his wife as she paled.

"Why the bloody hell did we buy this house then?"

"Because you bloody loved it, I was trying to get you to go over to see it but we drove passed this one and you fell in love and I couldn't tell you no because you loved this one, so we have two houses are you happy? Scor has loved the chateau since he was a boy so I was just going to pass it on to him."

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Hermione shrieked, "We could have just lived there, I would have been okay with it."

Draco laughed, "Do you remember yourself twenty years ago? You would have hexed that key straight up my father's a-" Hermione gave him a look as to say, shut up.

"Why didn't your parents ever say anything about it?"

"Because you love this house, you saw our family growing up here and I love you so I told them we would be living here." He shrugged, "I would have lived in a cave if you loved it enough, I would have lived anywhere you wanted to live."

Hermione's face soften as it often did around her husband, she walked over and put her arms around him, "I love you Draco," She brought her lips up to his.

Scorpius groaned and pretended to put his hand over Rose's eyes, but he had noticed that she was smiling at the affection his parents gave each other, "Gods, you two, get a room. Impressionable young minds in the room."

Draco pulled away from his wife, "Yes, I know, you should take notes Scor, this is what a happy wife looks like."

Hermione laughed and Rose suddenly spoke up, "Mister Malfoy, I would be honored to live in that home. It would be truly amazing to be married in our garden."

Scorpius looked surprised, "Are you sure Rose? We don't have to, we can look around at other homes."

Rose shook her head, "No, it's a beautiful home, we both love it, you loved it enough to want to get married there, why shouldn't we live there if it already belongs in the family?"

Scorpius smiled, "As long as you are happy, I will be happy."

* * *

Since the wedding was to be in France, Rose had decided to move into a guest cottage that sat on the Malfoy property so she could help plan and get to know her fiance. Scorpius spent his days at his father's company learning the ins and outs of the potion business while Rose spent time with Hermione at her book store.

Ron and Lavender were not happy at all with Rose leaving England to live with the Malfoys, but Arthur put his foot down. Rose was of age and going to marry no matter what. There was no way for her to get out of the marriage and after Ron's display at the meeting, there were no other options, she needed to be where the wedding was going to take place. The only consolation was that Fleur and Bill had recently moved to France as he was transferred to Gringotts Paris and were able to visit and spend time with Rose.

The couple did spend weekends in England with Rose's family, but Ron was so cruel to Scorpius that Rose finally stopped coming home and they would spend their weekends with her uncles or grandparents. All of them seem to love Scorpius as he reminded them a bit of his mother. Hermione, getting wind of Ron's cruel nature towards her son, paid a visit to him at George's shop where he worked and needless to say, he found a reason to be nice to Scorpius and a renewed dislike for bodies of water.

Hermione learned that her soon to be daughter in law was nothing like her mother was at the same age. She was polite and a joy to have around. Rose was one of the top in her year at Hogwarts and aspired to be a writer. She wanted to write books and already had a manuscript written. Thankful that Rose had drive and wanted to continue working even when they had children, Hermione felt she would be a welcome addition to their family.

Rose and Scorpius spent every night together getting to know one another. They spent hours talking in the drawing room at the main house. Scorpius and Rose both decided that they would prefer to be surrounded by family while they got to know each other, only choosing to go on dates alone after three months had passed and they felt they had gotten to know each other and were comfortable to be solo.

The papers all over England were reporting on this union, calling it everything from the romance of the century to a travesty that a war hero's daughter was to marry into a family of death eaters. There were even reports that this was a ploy to keep the Malfoy lines pure, as the Weasleys were Sacred 28. That made Hermione laugh considering her son was a half blood and caused the Malfoys to make a public appearance in England for a charity event at St. Mungos where Hermione Malfoy personally funded a ward for those victims of memory charms.

Rose looked up to Hermione and Draco's marriage. Her own parents were not as loving towards one another nor spent time with her and her brother the way the Malfoys did. It was not unusual to see the family spending the weekends in the garden, getting dirty and chasing the dogs away from the gnomes. To be honest, the only marriage she had seen this kind of love for one another was her grandparents.

Scorpius and Rose were married on a bright summer day with only five hundred guests in attendance on the lawn of their new home. By the wedding, Scorpius Malfoy could truly say he falling for Rose during their courtship and she said the same. They spent their days working and their nights laughing and talking. Rose looked beautiful in a cream lace gown. Scorpius had opted for a light grey muggle tux that complimented her dress beautifully. Tears could be spotted on the bride as the golden light of the bonding ceremony intertwined their lives and magic.

The press were not invited to the wedding, to the dismay of Ron and Lavender. Lavender believed that her daughter deserved to be in the papers and leaked photos of the wedding to the Daily Prophet much to the dismay of Rose Malfoy which caused a rift between her and Lavender.

The couple decided to hold off having children their first year, they wanted to enjoy being married so instead they took a six month honeymoon and went backpacking through the rest of Europe and Asia. This had been Rose's idea and while Hermione never wanted to see the inside of a tent again, she thought it would be a great way for the children to really get to know each other without the distractions of work and family. They promised to owl every week and send photos and they were off. Lucius, Draco and Blaise started a pool to see how long before the kids caved and used the Malfoy vaults to get hotels and Hermione hexed all three men, sending her infamous conjured birds at their heads.

The young Malfoys returned six months later looking no worse for wear with stories and adventures and Rose's new book, **How to Rough it Like a Malfoy** , complete with wizarding photos and antidotes.

Once at home in their new house a few months after their trip, Scorpius reading and Rose working on her next book, Scorpius would look up and smirk at his wife's intense look of concentration.

The fourth time, Rose caught him, "What?" She asked, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Scorpius grinned at his wife, "I was just thinking about all the times I've caught my parents in various stages of showing their love and appreciation for each other," Scorpius laughed as Rose's face lost color. She had recently walked in on a half naked Hermione and Draco the day before in the kitchen when they had gone to their house for lunch, "Not just like that, but hugs, kisses, tender looks, soft caresses. I've grown up with parents who truly love each other and when I found out about this marriage law, I thought I would never get that."

Rose frowned but Scorpius shook his head, "No, let me finish." He kept going, "I thought I was doomed to have a loveless marriage and that is why I was so against it at first. Then I met your parents and that was another reason to be against it off the bat. But getting to know you those six months before the wedding, then those months on our trip. I think Merlin blessed me with a perfect match. I never thought I'd be able to say this, but I love you Rose Malfoy."

Rose began to cry at the revelation, she had known that Scorpius loved her. She could tell by the way he looked at her, he looked at her the same as his own father looked at Hermione. They had put off saying it, Scorpius wanted it to be true, not forced.

She left her desk and sat in Scorpius' lap, "I love you too Scorpius Malfoy." The couple sat there, enjoying each other's embrace and began to talk about their future together. Seems like the law was able to bring them together where otherwise, they wouldn't have crossed paths.

* * *

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	7. Dove

**Wordsmiths & Betas Marriage Law One Shot Writing Competition**

\- Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. You will find this information at the bottom of each entry. Thank you for reading!

 **Title: Dove**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Horror, Drama**

 **Pairing: Tom Riddle / Hermione Granger**

 **Triggers: None**

 **Warnings: Sex, Language, Mention of murder**

 **Disclaimer:** All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the authors represented here are profiting from these stories.

* * *

 **Dove**

* * *

 **May 2**

 **The Leaky Cauldron**

It started with a cup of coffee. In retrospect, it would have been far more prudent of her to use a warming charm on the tepid swill, but she was impatient, and warming charms worked less effectively than what she had in mind.

" _Ulcus_ ," she whispered, touching the tip of her wand to the mug. The black liquid inside reacted immediately, beginning to steam and then to bubble as she lowered her wand.

"You know, I'm not sure I've ever seen that spell used to heat coffee before. I'll have to give it a go next time."

Hermione looked up at the sound of a male voice, startled to have been observed. The man who had spoken sat at the table beside hers, and, as far as she could tell, was one of the only other patrons in the Leaky Cauldron so early on a Saturday. He was watching her almost speculatively, a teasing glint in his eye, his dark hair perfectly groomed and his robes pressed over the clean linen shirt and braces he wore. Hermione fidgeted in her seat, unused to drawing attention.

"It's a bit complicated," she said. "Takes a bit of control to keep it isolated to the mug."

The man smirked openly, sipping his own coffee before speaking. "I think I'll be able to manage."

Hermione's eyes widened as she rushed to assure the man that she had meant no offense, but he merely raised a hand and gave her a charming, easy smile. "It's quite alright," he told her. "I know the _Ulcus_ spell can be tricky to manage, but as it happens, I have some experience with it."

Hermione raised a brow, but did not comment on the man's confession. In her experience, those who were familiar with that particular boiling hex were rarely able to discuss where they had learned it. Of course, she was no exception to the rule, especially here and now.

"Are you new to London?" She looked up as the man continued to address her, nodding in reply.

"Yes," she said, clearing her throat and avoiding the man's gaze before elaborating. "I'm from France, actually."

He raised a dark, regally shaped brow. "Your accent is very good for a french-woman," he commented dryly.

"My parents are English," Hermione shrugged. "We didn't go out much."

The man laughed and then took another sip of his coffee. "Fine, keep your secrets," he said, and then dabbed his lips with the corner of the cloth napkin he had apparently laid over his lap.

Hermione didn't answer, only hid her own smile behind her hand for a moment and then blew on her drink.

"Tell me, are you familiar with _Tergora Deripiunt_?" His tone was curious and careful, and Hermione stiffened as his words registered.

"What?" She asked, her tone surprisingly even after the mention of such a dark spell.

"Apples."

"Excuse me?" Her voice was incredulous now and a touch confused.

"It's good for peeling apples," he said as he continued to watch her.

"Apples," Hermione echoed.

"Or bananas. Really anything with a thick skin you'd rather not remove by hand." He was teasing her, the cad. Hermione's brow furrowed, and she set down her mug on the table.

"Hmm. Well, thanks for the tip. I really ought to go now though, or I'll be late to work," she said, dropping several sickles on the table and smoothing her skirt as she stood. The handsome man watched her rise, not moving to stand as so many of his contemporaries did.

"You work in Diagon Alley?" He asked.

"Yes," Hermione answered, pulling a set of worn blue robes out of her magically enlarged purse and slipping them on over her arms.

"Eyelop's Owl Emporium," the man observed, apparently recognizing the uniform. "You didn't strike me as a shop girl."

Hermione's spine stiffened at his words, and her expression turned to stone. "Perhaps you're not quite as discerning as you think you are," she said, and then swept out of the pub practically seething. The nerve of the man; of all men really. She wasn't sure she'd met a single one who wasn't a patronizing ass since that wretched time turner had landed her in 1949.

0-0-0-0-0-0

 **July 31, 1949**

 **The Leaky Cauldron**

It was the worst day yet. She had been in 1949 for nearly four months, but until now, she had not seriously considered the possibility that her sojourn there might be anything other than temporary. Yes, she'd managed to find a job to support herself while she researched the broken Time-Turner she wore round her neck, but she had not expected her employment there to last more than a month or so, just until she was able to repair the device and return home. But she had not been able to fix the Time-Turner, and with each passing day, she lost hope she ever would. The Sands of Time, which had been encased in the instrument, had been lost when the glass shattered as she'd arrived, and without them the necklace itself was useless, just a strange pendant she wore and frequently fiddled with.

If only getting help from the ministry were an option! But Hermione knew that such an attempt would prove fruitless; dangerous, even. The first Time-Turner would not be invented for decades, and without more proof than some broken, unfamiliar instrument, the Ministry-which was still paranoid over the specter of Gellert Grindelwald- might suspect her of more nefarious intentions than returning to the future.

Hermione sighed and drained the tumbler of brandy on the bar top in front of her. _Happy Birthday, Harry_ , she thought as the dark liquid burned her throat and tears threatened to burn in her eyes. She was missing it, missing the life she was supposed to be living. Missing her career at the Ministry as an Unspeakable, missing her best friend's birthday, and with it, the wedding he had planned to his Hogwarts sweetheart. Would they have postponed it, because she was missing, or would they have gone ahead with the small ceremony, needing the joy it would bring?

"Shop girl." A self-assured voice cut through her self pity like a knife, and Hermione glanced up to see a familiar looking man in black robes, his dark hair combed neatly to the side and an amused expression on his handsome lips.

"You," Hermione said in surprise, knitting her brows together as she placed the man as the same person who had noticed her misuse of the blood boiling hex months before. "Apples."

He laughed, a charming sound that seemed to warm her and set her at ease. "Yes. Glad to know I made an impression. Can I buy you another?" He motioned to her empty glass, and Hermione arched a brow. "Or not. You're not married are you?"

Hermione scoffed. "No. Thank Merlin. I've managed to escape that noose thus far." Perhaps in a different time marriage might have been something she would consider- to the right man- but in mid-century London, all of the 'right men' were five decades away. Her work in the Department of Mysteries had kept her largely isolated, but that had not prevented her from meeting two or three of Harry's auror friends. She'd been set to go on a date with one of them before she had disappeared.

"Not open to the institution?" He seemed curious now, and the curiosity seemed to light his face like a flame.

"Not here."

"Ah, are French men much more desirable then?" He was teasing her, and to her surprise, Hermione found she enjoyed the exchange.

"Well, they certainly have a few extremely enticing qualities. Their dexterity, for instance."

It was the man's turn to raise a brow now, and he did so quite elegantly. "And dexterity is a trait you value?"

"It's something all women value," she answered, smirking. She looked back down at her drink, remembering as she did so that it was empty, and _why_ it was empty. Making a snap decision in the time it took her to touch the glass, she glanced up at the man at her side, giving him a half hearted smile. "Didn't you say something about drinks?"

He watched her for several heartbeats before answering, as if he were considering his options and weighing them all against one another before finally speaking. "I believe I did."

0-0-0-0-0-0

His mouth was hot against hers as they crashed into the upstairs room. It had not taken long for Hermione to go from drinking with him at the bar to following him to the third floor of the Leaky Cauldron, where rooms were apparently let by the hour. She knew she should be more cautious, that what she was doing now was likely a mistake of epic proportions, but somehow, she could not bring herself to protest. Besides, she had been cautious for far too long, and where had it landed her? Certainly not with a promotion, or a steady boyfriend to share her nights with. No, all she'd gotten was a one way ticket to the past and a boring, useless job cleaning owl shit out of cages.

She deserved this. The heat and the spark, the firmness of his hands on her upper arms as he drew her into the room and shut the door firmly behind them, locking it with the practiced wave of a hand.

"Show off," Hermione teased as they broke apart at last, and she collapsed against the bed which dominated the room.

"What, that?" he asked, motioning at the bolted door lock before scoffing. "Wandless magic is hardly difficult for a skilled wizard."

Hermione raised a brow at his arrogance before glancing pointedly at the drapes beside the solitary window in the room. The two heavy panels of fabric sprang into action at once, sliding shut on the metal curtain rods in no time at all. When she looked back at him, still standing by the door, his eyes were glittering.

"Now who's showing off?" he asked, voice low and husky as he stepped closer to her, a feral, predatory look in his dark eyes. The expression both terrified and titillated her, and Hermione found her breath hitching as he advanced. "Tell me, where did a shop girl like you learn such advanced skills? Been taking lessons from the owls?"

He was almost upon her now, his long fingered hands loosening the tie around his neck before shrugging out of his robes completely, leaving him standing in front of her in trousers, a crisp white Oxford, and braces. "Beauxbatons," Hermione breathed, remembering to lie as she took in his lithe form greedily.

"Must we persist with that charade?" the man laughed, bending down now and forcing her to lean back on her elbows as his arms framed her. "You may keep your secrets for now, but you mustn't lie to me, my dove."

"I'm not your dove," Hermione breathed as he began to settle against her, his chest pressing into her blouse as her shoulder blades came to rest on the bed's surface.

"But you'd like to be," he whispered, and then took her mouth with his in a kiss that seared and enflamed her. As his lips dominated hers, his hands caressed the length of her, sweeping from her cheek, down to her breast, and then further down to her hip, where his fingers dug into her skirt and tender flesh.

Hermione whimpered, "Yes," and he loosened his grip, biting her lip as he pulled away, and then moved his fingers to the top button of her blouse, which he began to undo with practiced skill as he showered the tender flesh of her neck with open mouthed kisses.

"What's your name, dove?" his voice was deep and controlled in her ear, and she sighed in response.

"Hermione."

"Hermione." He echoed her slowly, as if he were contemplating the name. "Hermione, I'd like you to spread your legs for me. A bit more. Good." Her blouse now completely undone, Hermione felt him trace his fingers from her stocking clad knee, up over her thigh, and to the damp heat between them.

"Merlin, you're soaked," he said, his tone at once pleased and mocking. Hermione whimpered and bit her lip, her pride at war with the delicious feeling he was stoking within her.

"Please, just-"

"Oh, I like that word on your lips," he interrupted. " _Evanesco_." Her stockings and panties disappeared at his command, leaving her completely bare to him. Immediately, his fingers sank into the slick wetness coating her, his thumb finding the sensitized nub at the top of her slit. Her back arched in response, and she tried to find purchase with her arms, wrapping them around his neck and sinking her nails into his linen covered shoulders.

" _Voluptatem_." The spell was like a jolt of electricity, moving from his thumb to her clit and causing an instant reaction. She came without effort, or warning, screaming as the sensation took over, and her eyes closed tightly against the pleasurable onslaught. By the time her cries had faded to a whimper and she could see through bleary eyes, the man had unzipped his trousers, letting them fall open to reveal his hardened cock, dripping with arousal.

"What the bloody fuck was that?" Hermione whispered hoarsely, still panting as he brought his hand, still coated with her arousal, up to her lace covered breast. He pulled the cup of her brassiere down and then began to stroke her hard, pebbled nipples with his thumb, leaving a glistening streak of her own moisture before leaning down to lap it up with his tongue.

"Have I found a spell you're not familiar with?" he said against her breast, before looking up at her with dark eyes, his pupils wide with lust.

"Is it a Dark spell?" Hermione asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

"Can magic that brings such pleasure truly be Dark?" the man countered, and then encased her nipple in his mouth once more, making her moan as his hand returned to her soaked center, collecting more of her arousal before trailing up to her other breast and beginning to pluck at the nipple there.

"Oh, God," she said, and he chuckled.

"I prefer 'Lord'," he told her, and before she could give thought to what he meant, she was coming again, howling with pleasure as his thigh ground against her still sensitive mound, the fabric of his trousers providing a delicious friction that seemed to keep her at the cusp of pleasure, until at last he was finished with her breasts and began to kiss her mouth. She felt him then, the hardened length of his arousal moving against her sopping core in teasing strokes.

"Please, oh please!" Hermione begged, wrapping her legs around his hips and trying to force him down into her, but he was immovable, like a statue with glittering eyes and a hot touch.

"Please, what, Hermione?" He asked, the head of him brushing over her sensitized nub, causing her to whimper.

"Please, fuck me," she said automatically. He raised a brow and tsked as he paused his movements.

"Now, is that any sort of language for a lady?"

"You bastard, stop making me wait and-"

"Bastard wasn't quite what I was looking for either, Hermione," he leant down and bit the lobe of her ear before licking the shell and whispering hotly, "I told you to call me Lord."

"What are you-"

" _Voluptatem_." The pleasure tore through her again, leaving her a sobbing mess of throbbing sensation as she struggled to breathe shakily, and her hair grew damp with sweat.

"Please, Lord," she whispered hoarsely when she could think again, and then hissed in pleasure as his cock sank into her up to the hilt.

He rocked against her at first, with smooth, shallow strokes that took her to the precipice of another staggering orgasm before tapering off completely.

"More, more," she cried, and he chuckled as he thrust forward hard, making her keen aloud and reveling in the sound before doing it again. And again. And again until she was crying out in pleasure once more, and even then, he did not stop, only kept up the steady rhythm he was enjoying, driving into her with abandon until at last she came to a fifth, world shattering climax. He stilled, watching her face hungrily as she finished, before letting his own eyes flutter shut and spilling himself within her, his lip trapped between his teeth as he bit down hard and lost control.

0-0-0-0-0-0

 **October 31, 1949**

 **Knockturn Alley**

She wore a black travelling cloak wrapped tightly around her as she made her way through the dank alley. In her day, the narrow lane had been disreputable, and it seemed that in this era it was no different. Cramped little shops lined either side of the street, signs apparently unnecessary as there were none in evidence, not until she reached her destination. The sign hanging above the door of 13B was weathered but legible and read "Borgin and Burkes." Hermione had been once or twice before on Ministry business, but the shop would be different now.

She took a breath, ignoring the stale scent on the air as she stepped into the shop. A bell clanged somewhere in the distance as the door closed behind her, and she stood stiffly, staring around the crowded room until she caught sight of the counter on the opposite wall. Making her way through the clutter of the store was bothersome. She side-stepped shelves of jewelry and cutlery, and a tall black cabinet she recognized and had to stop herself from cursing into smithereens.

"Can I help you?"

The man behind the counter looked just as handsome as he had the last time she had seen him. His dark hair was neatly combed and his robes perfectly pressed where he stood, keeping a watchful eye over the shop and the hooded figure come to speak with him.

Hermione dropped her hood, studying the floor for a moment before she was brave enough to look up and meet the eyes of the man she'd left without a word, three months before.

"Hermione," he said, the surprise evident on his face for only a moment before he managed to control his features once more. "How did you find me?"

At his question, her gaze narrowed.

"It wasn't hard," she snapped, "It's not as if you were hiding. The barman at The Leaky knew you and told me where to look."

"I see," he said, tilting his head to the side as he examined her. "And what brings you to see me today? After your _abrupt_ departure, I had not expected to see you again."

"Look, I'm sorry, alright," said Hermione, trying her best to pacify the venomous tone in the man's voice. "It was nothing against you. I just… I don't normally do the sorts of things we did. I was embarrassed."

He laughed, and the warmth she remembered from their last encounter was gone, leaving his mirth high and cold. "Embarrassed? Merlin, girl, it's not as if you were a virgin."

"And what _exactly_ does that have to do with anything?" It was Hermione's turn to sound cold now.

He considered before inclining his head and replying. "Nothing, I'm sure. I only meant that it was apparent our… session, was not your first introduction to the art of love-making."

"Love-making?" Hermione laughed. "Please, let's at least call it what it was."

"If you prefer," he shrugged.

"Look," Hermione sighed again and crossed her arms tight across her chest, "I'm sorry to bother you. I wouldn't be if circumstances were different, but as it is… well, I think you've got a right to know." She let her voice trail off, unable to force herself to speak the words she hadn't yet said aloud, even to herself.

"What on earth are you talking about?" he hissed, his face suddenly contorted in rage as he leaned across the counter, the palms of his hands flat against its surface. "You can't mean what I think you-"

"Tom!"

The voice coming from the room behind the counter was loud and masculine, and from the way the man hissed and looked immediately over his shoulder, Hermione guessed it was the voice of either Borgin, or Burke.

"Just a moment," he called, "I'm with a customer."

"Tom?" Hermione spoke his name with a frown. "Your name is Tom?"

He turned back to look at her and nodded once stiffly.

"Tom Riddle," he elaborated, "at your service."

"Tom, come here for a moment! The blasted powder box is acting up again!"

"Shit," he said as Hermione's blood turned to ice in her veins. "Wait here. I'll be back in a minute." He disappeared through the door at his back, and Hermione watched him go, frozen where she stood, until a loud bang from the back room made her jump, and her eyes widened in terror.

"No. Oh, God, no," she let out in a terrified whisper and began to back away from the shop's counter, staggering as she went, until she reached the exit and groped blindly for the handle. She turned it as quickly as possible and thrust the door open, stumbling into the alley beyond and taking big gulping breaths of air into her lungs. She had to leave, had to run, had to put as much distance between herself and the shop as possible before _he_ emerged.

" _P-Portus_ ," she cried, her wand shaking in her hand as she pointed it at a bracelet she wore on the opposite wrist. The silver chain glowed blue for a moment, and when the light faded, she was gone.

0-0-0-0-0-0

 **December 31, 1949**

 **Tottenham**

"Clever, hiding in Muggle London. I was almost convinced you were a figment of my imagination, for a while there."

His voice was both cold and amused, a terrifying dichotomy when one considered the man himself. Hermione froze, still leaning down to deposit a check on the table in front of a man and his wife, who had taken their supper at the pub where she worked.

"Care for a chat, Hermione?" She felt his hand on her elbow and forced herself to release the check, smiling stiffly at the couple before speaking.

"I'll be back in a moment," she told them, and then turned to follow Tom out of the establishment and into the nearest alleyway, his hand on her arm vice-like as he guided her.

As soon as he released her, she whirled away, pulling her wand from beneath her apron and aiming it in his direction just as he cried, " _Expelliarmus_!", disarming her with little effort and catching her only means of defense deftly as it flew toward him. "Now, now, Dove; was raising your wand to me strictly necessary?"

"Yes, it was," Hermione spat, crossing her arms now and backing against the alley's wall. "What do you want from me?"

He scoffed and took a step towards her. "You mean besides the child you're trying to keep from me?"

"What child?" Hermione asked stiffly, not daring to move from her spot against the wall.

"Don't play dumb, Hermione, it doesn't suit you." He vanished her apron with a flick of his wand, revealing the gentle, five month swell of her belly, artfully concealed behind generous swaths of fabric. "How much longer do you think you'll be able to hide _that_ from the Muggles, anyway? I doubt your employer will want an unwed mother sullying their establishment." He sounded disgusted as he spoke, though whether it was for her, or the Muggles he disdained, Hermione did not know.

"Is that a threat?" she asked.

Tom's eyes glittered as he shrugged elegantly. "If it needs to be. I had hoped, though, that once you were assured of my good intentions, threats would be unnecessary."

"Good intentions?" Hermione laughed and rested her hands on her belly. "As if you're capable of those."

His eyes flashed again, and he took another step towards her. "What do _you_ know of my capabilities? Aside from the ones I showed you while you were flat on your back, you know nothing."

"I know plenty," hissed Hermione. "I know who you are, and the disgusting things you want, and I will be damned before I let myself be dragged into it."

He was on her before she could flinch, his wand pressed to her throat as his breath warmed her ear. Despite herself, despite everything she knew about the man pressed bodily against her, she felt herself begin to respond. Before she even began to struggle, his hand was on her chin forcing her to look up and meet his dark gaze.

And then she was falling. Down, down, ever deeper, until she was in a lake filled with swirling figures, each one a memory that called itself forth as she looked at it. There was her last shift at the pub, her lecherous boss smacking her bum as she passed by him. Here was her fifth year, battling for her life in the Department of Mysteries. Memories swirled around her like gunsmoke, each one a bullet threatening to shatter her very existence as it revealed forbidden knowledge to a man who could only ever use it for evil.

When at last he broke away, they were both panting, and Hermione realized her face was soaked in tears. She was lost, everything was lost.

"What the bloody fuck was that?" he rasped as her legs gave out and she slid down the brick at her back until she was sitting on the ground.

"Fuck you," she said.

0-0-0-0-0-0

He dragged her immediately to the Ministry, pulling her by the hand to a desk with a plaque that read, "Department of Contracts" which caught her eye.

"We're here for a marriage license," he told the clerk.

"Like hell we are," Hermione shouted, and finally managed to yank her hand away from his. "This man brought me here against my will, and I demand that he be taken into custody at once."

"She's carrying my bastard," Tom interrupted, glaring at her, "and I am invoking my right, as the last male of my line, to take her to wife."

"You're right to- why you bloody arsehole, if you think you can just-"

"Will you be requiring a Trace, sir?" The clerk spoke to Tom as if Hermione weren't even present, and her mouth gaped open in shock.

"What did you just say?" she asked incredulously.

Tom gave her a withering glare and then nodded. "Yes, I think I will be."

"Very good, sir. All we need is proof of paternity and six Galleons for the certificate."

"Proof of paternity!?" cried Hermione, who felt as if the world were going mad around her. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Give us a moment, will you?" Tom ordered the clerk through gritted teeth, and then took hold of Hermione's upper arm, his grip bruising, to drag her to a far corner of the room. "What's going on," he hissed, "Is that we are getting married. I won't have any child of mine born a bastard. We will be wed, and a Trace will be placed on your person, which I will then be given access to, preventing you from pulling another little disappearing act with my child."

"You're mad," Hermione spat. "I will never agree to marry you. _Never_!"

"It's a very good thing your agreement isn't necessary then, isn't it?" Tom hissed, his eyes burning with anger. "You're forgetting yourself, _Granger._ This isn't your happy future where I'm dead and you're free to whore yourself out to Aurors. This is 1949, and according to the law as it stands today, I have a right to force the issue and claim you and the babe as my own. You're mine, until I say otherwise!"

Hermione stared at him, horrified, waiting for his terrible veneer to crack, or for the clerk across the room to say, 'only joking' and send them on their way. But they didn't, and she found herself being dragged back across the room unceremoniously, her wand still stowed somewhere on Tom's personage, useless to her. If she tried to run she knew he would stop her, and though she was skilled at wandless magic, she was no match for a vicious man armed with two wands.

"Proof of paternity, if you please." The aging clerk held out a hand and Tom deftly plucked several strands of hair from first Hermione's head, and then his own. The man took them, producing his wand and waving them in the direction of the dark locks. Immediately, a soft golden glow emanated from them, before they caught flame and burned almost instantaneously to ash.

"It seems everything is in order here. Six Galleons, if you please, and then I will ask Mr. Brocklehurst to join us and perform the ceremony."

In shock, Hermione watched as money changed hands, and a squat man in vivid green robes entered the room, his hand outstretched to shake Tom's as he studiously ignored the woman in the room.

"Mr. Riddle, it's a pleasure," he said jovially.

"Mr. Brocklehurst. Thank you for taking the time to marry us today."

At his side, Hermione scoffed, and the ministry official finally cast an eye on her.

"A reluctant bride, I see. What's the matter, my girl? Don't you want your child to have a father?"

Hermione met the man's eyes, her own gaze cold as she spoke. "I think I'd rather the both of us die than be joined to this man."

"Oh dear," said Brocklehurst, alarmed.

"The ceremony, if you don't mind," Tom said, his teeth gritted as he attempted to stay cordial with the man who would bind Hermione to him. She only scoffed and crossed her arms, refusing to look up at either man again, as the farce they had planned was carried out.

As it happened, the particular ceremony reserved for binding unwed mothers to the father of their children did not require the woman to speak. All that was required was her presence, and that had been forced easily enough. For Tom's part, he was made to promise that he would provide for both Hermione and the child physically, giving them a name and abstaining from causing them physical harm. This he swore with blood- which Hermione was surprised to see- and he was, therefore, magically bound by his promise. A small part of her was thankful for the vow required of him, because like it or not, the oath he had taken might save her life some day, when the charming, calculating young man in front of her, became the nightmare from her future.

When the binding was complete, Brocklehurst produced two identical gold bands from the pocket of his robes and handed them to Tom.

"These are the rings you requested, I believe. The runes inscribed on the inside make them impossible to remove, and they are linked together via a modified portkey charm, which will allow you to find her wherever she might be."

Tom grabbed her hand at once, and Hermione struggled in vain to pull away from him, clenching her fist and forcing him to pry her hand open before he was at last able to slip the smaller of the rings over her fourth finger. The metal of the band brightened and then burned white hot against her skin for a moment before it dimmed and cooled once more. Tom gave the ring an experimental tug and Hermione gasped as her whole hand was jerked forward. Satisfied, he slipped his own ring onto the fourth finger of his left hand and then nodded to each of the men in the room before taking Hermione by the hand.

"Thank you, gentlemen," he said, pulling her from the room.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Riddle," the clerk called as the door swung shut behind them.

0-0-0-0-0-0

 **February 14, 1950**

 **Brasília, Brazil**

She was swollen. And uncomfortable. The heat surrounding her was oppressive, making her hair frizz unattractively as she made her way through the crowded market, one hand laid protectively across her belly, and the other clutching a broken, old hand mirror at her side. It had taken quite a bit of illegal magic to manage an international portkey, but she had done it, and now that she was here, free of the man who had plagued her since their first, unfortunate meeting, she could not regret it. What were a few of an innocent man's memories when compared with her freedom? No, she would not apologize for using the Imperius curse on the ministry official who had given her a means of escape, nor would she feign remorse over obliviating him. She had done what she'd needed to do to be free of the man who had slithered into her life and tried to possess her. And now, she would do what she needed to do to find a way home, back to her time, where she wasn't a wife to a psychopath, and Tom Riddle was dead.

She found the little house with no trouble at all. It was a charming place, with a lovely garden in front and a birdbath near the porch; hardly the sort of place one imagined a powerful wizard might live. Still, Vinicius Oportuno was powerful, and one of the only wizards alive who had published anything worthwhile on the subject of time travel.

Hermione walked up the steps to the porch and leaned forward, knocking three times, and then stepping back to wait. She listened for movement as she set the used portkey she had been holding aside on the small table which stood beside a weathered rocking chair. At last, the shuffle of footsteps sounded from within, and Hermione wiped the sweat from her forehead as she straightened, her eye trained on the door. When it finally opened, she stumbled backward, and she would have fallen off of the porch completely if someone hadn't grabbed her wrist and jerked her forward.

"Did you think I wouldn't know?" he hissed, his mouth beside her ear as he spoke. "Did you think you were more clever than me?"

"Get away from me!" Hermione cried, yanking her arm back and shoving him from her with both hands.

She saw him then, as he took a step backwards. His usually immaculately groomed hair was disheveled, and the crisp white shirt he wore was stained with several gruesome looking splatters.

"What have you done?" she asked in horror.

"Nothing you did not force me to do through your ridiculous persistence." Tom lifted a hand and combed his fingers through his hair. "I told you that there would be consequences the next time you tried to run, Hermione. I warned you that I would not be so understanding a second time."

"Did you murder him?" Hermione's voice was high as she moved to push her way past Tom and into the house, but he stepped into her path.

"You can't help him," he told her, his voice having gone from cold fury to understanding. "I'm sorry that your visit didn't go as planned, Hermione, but you really ought to have known better than to cross me."

"You're sick," she said, but did not move to enter the house again.

"And you're valuable." Tom shrugged. "Much too valuable to be allowed to roam around Brazil looking for an escape route. I need you in this time, dove. I need you by my side with that beautiful, bushy head of yours, and those one of a kind, better than a seer, memories. "

"I'm not a tool to be used," Hermione hissed.

"Of course you aren't," Tom agreed, smiling at her kindly. "You're the mother of my child, my wife, and if you are suggesting that you would like to establish a more intimate, sexual relationship, I would not be adverse to-"

She spat at him, and the spittle landed on his cheek, sliding down as he stood in silence, until at last he lifted a hand to wipe it away.

"Perhaps, we'll continue that particular conversation later," he said sardonically, and then he reached out to grab her wrist, pulling her flush against him and apparating them both away.

0-0-0-0-0-0

 **May 1, 1950**

 **St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries**

The labor had been longer and more painful than she had expected, but in the end, she was handed a beautiful, brown haired baby girl, and both the pain and the exhaustion were forgotten. She had not expected to love the child so immediately, or so completely. Somehow, she had not imagined that it would be a part of her, that half of her heart would be born into its perfect, tiny body. In her nightmares, the child had been a snake, red of eye and black of scale, but the reality of the girl was far from Hermione's fears. The baby was hers, just as much as it was Tom's. More-so, really. She thought she could see the Granger nose and chin beneath dark, wide eyes and a head of dark hair.

"What would you like to name her?"

He spoke from the doorway where he had been hovering. Hermione glanced up briefly before returning her attention to the babe in her arms.

"What, you haven't already chosen some ancestral moniker you'll force me into saddling her with?"

Tom snorted softly and walked to her bedside, sitting on the chair at her right and leaning forward to peer at the baby.

"No," he said, his voice low as he studied her.

"What are you looking at?" Hermione asked defensively, feeling suddenly as if she needed to shield the baby from him somehow. Tom stiffened and frowned in response.

"I'm not going to hurt her," he snapped. "I swore to it, if you'll recall."

"If your vow is the only thing keeping her from harm, I think there's still plenty of reason to protect her from you," Hermione said coldly.

"Of course it's not the only thing- of all the accusations you could level at me, I think this is the worst. I would _never_ harm my own child. Do you think me an animal, or a Muggle, capable of hurting a baby?"

"I know for a fact you're capable of it," Hermione answered without hesitation.

"No," Tom argued. "You know I would have been capable of it in an uncertain future that may yet be prevented. In a world where I had neither wife, nor child, where my aim was to kill, or subjugate Muggleborns."

"And your aims have changed now, have they?" Hermione asked, mockingly.

"I can hardly vilify Mudbloods when I've married one, dove."

"Don't call me that," Hermione snapped. But her eyes fell on the baby in her arms again, and her expression softened.

"Do you think I want to make the same mistakes I made in your world, Hermione?" Tom asked, his voice soft now as he leaned in to peer at their daughter. "I don't want to die a villain. I want to live to be celebrated. I want to rule the Wizarding world and make it great again for my child, and for all of our kind. I want to restore us to our natural position of power in the world… not murder children in their cribs."

There was silence in the several minutes that followed, as Hermione sat contemplating his words while Tom admired the baby she held. At last, she spoke.

"I want to name her Clara, after my mother."

"Clara Merope. That will do."

"You want to name her after _your_ mother?" Hermione asked, surprised.

Tom stiffened but nodded once.

Hermione sighed and then moved to lay Clara in the little floating bassinet beside her bed.

"Let me," said Tom, and he held out his arms for the baby. Hermione froze, struggling within herself at the thought of allowing him to hold her child. This was Tom Riddle. Lord Voldemort. The man who had haunted her nightmares and created a world where she was disparaged because of her blood. He had tried to murder her best friend on multiple occasions, and tortured countless Muggles before ending their lives… Or was that some other man, in some other world? Was her memory of him a window to the future, or a dream that might, or might not come to fruition? Certainly, she had changed the timeline when she had met him… but had she changed it enough to make him redeemable, or would he forever be destined for villainy?

"Watch her head," Hermione instructed, as she settled the baby in his arms, watching closely as he cradled her and began to bounce his arms slightly.

0-0-0-0-0-0

 **June 3, 1953**

 **Riddle Cottage**

The bed was warm; it was always warm. Tom burned like a furnace at night, his skin radiating heat in waves as she slept. It was a comfort, though she would never admit it.

"Are you asleep?"

"Mmm?"

"Wake up, dove."

She rolled onto her stomach, pretending not to hear him, and inhaled several strands of hair as it settled around her like a mantle.

Tom chuckled, and she felt one of his hands trace around her waist before settling on her opposite hip.

"You'll not escape so easily," he whispered, voice husky in her ear as he shifted beside her, the covers moving around them, until at last she felt him settle above her, his bare skin pressed against hers, his smooth chest brushing her back, and his hard cock nudging at the cleft of her arse.

"Go away, you menace," she moaned, but the heat of him felt so nice, and his lips were on her neck, and she really didn't mind the way his hips pressed her down into the mattress, settling a delicious sort of pressure against her clit.

"I don't think that's what you really want," he whispered into her ear, and then licked the shell before biting her lobe. She arched her back in response, and felt his hard length slip between her thighs from behind.

"Tom." She sighed his name as one of his hands snaked between her and the bed, his clever fingers finding the bundle of nerves at the top of her slit just as his cock began to slide into her from behind, pushing her down against his fingers and making her cry out.

"Hush," he ordered, "you don't want to wake her." And he pushed her face down into the pillow.

Hermione began to moan again, her voice muffled against the cloth as he pounded her from behind, every sharp jut of his hips driving her closer to the release he had become so proficient at provoking. God, he didn't even need the spell he'd used their first time together anymore, hadn't for years now. Just touching her was enough, most days, to bring her to her knees, wailing out with need until at last he pushed her over the edge and into oblivion.

When they had finished and she lay languidly beside him, their juices coating her mons and thighs, he spoke.

"I'll be leaving for Albania tomorrow. You'll be fine here with Clara?"

Hermione froze, remembering something about Albania from a previous life, before nodding.

0-0-0-0-0-0

 **September 1, 1954**

 **Riddle Cottage**

She had found the answer she was looking for a year ago, but she had not had the will to use it. She was settled here, in this odd life, with a daughter she loved more than life, and a husband she enjoyed on occasion. Their existence was peaceful, if not idyllic. Tom kept his pursuit of power largely away from the cottage they shared in the Highlands, and Hermione pretended she did not know he was continuing to seek out powerful magical objects, or that he was meeting frequently with people like Abraxas Malfoy and Ecthelion Avery. It worked for them, and had been working for four years. And then she had fallen pregnant again, and she had tucked the knowledge away, praying that she would never need to use it, that when Tom spoke of a different path, he meant it.

But she had been wrong. Foolish. She should have gone, at once, when she had been given the opportunity, should have taken her daughter and run to the farthest reaches of the earth before going even further, to a place Tom Riddle could not follow. It had been her mistake, and now she was paying for it.

" _Stupefy!_ " she cried, her wand held tightly in hand as she pointed it in Tom's direction and watched the jet of red light speed toward him.

"Hermione, stop this at once," he ordered, deflecting the spell with a wave of his hand before stepping closer to her.

"Stay back!" she shouted, wordlessly casting a vicious slicing hex in his direction. He sidestepped the curse, and for the first time in the duel, raised his own wand.

"Mummy?" The small voice sounded from behind her, high and frightened.

"Go back to your room, Clara," Tom said, his voice light. "Your mother and I are only playing."

"Don't you speak to her," Hermione hissed. "Don't you say a word to her!"

"I'll speak to my daughter if, and when, I please, Hermione," Tom replied.

" _Sectumsempra_!" Hermione sent the curse his way quickly and skillfully, and before he could deflect it, it caught him in the arm. Tom hissed and lifted his wand, waving it in her direction and disarming her before freezing her in place.

She sobbed, still as a statue, while Tom tended to his wound before walking towards her; his expression unreadable, and his eyes flashing red. Hermione squeezed her own eyes shut, unwilling to meet his gaze now. How had she fooled herself into thinking he would change? The eye color with which he had come home today was merely a physical representation of the evil in his soul, which she knew must have been festering for these past four years.

"Look at me!" he ordered, and Hermione felt his hand on her chin, forcing her gaze up to meet his red slits. "If you ever raise a wand to me in front of our daughter again, you will regret it, Hermione."

"I loathe you," she said in response.

Tom reached down to caress her belly, full of his child and covered only by a thin nightgown.

"Is this what loathing looks like?"

Hermione only glared at him as he chuckled and leaned in to drop a soft kiss on her cheek. "Go to bed," he ordered. "I'll be a while yet." As he swept from the room, she felt the Body Bind Curse melt away, and she collapsed to the floor in a heap.

She had been weak, complacent, stupid. No more.

0-0-0-0-0-0

 **October 31, 1954**

 **Riddle Cottage**

The portal glowed bright blue, illuminating the whole room. At her side, Clara was staring in wide eyed wonder at the light, her dark brown curls sweeping behind her as a supernatural breeze seemed to emit from the swirling doorway.

"Take my hand, love," Hermione said, and the little girl slid her hand into her mother's, her fingers squeezing tight. In Hermione's arms, the baby cried out, barely a month old, and bothered by the bright magic dominating the room.

They stepped through together, Hermione leading her children through the portal at a quick pace. The trip took no time at all, and by the time they had cleared the light, it was gone. At first, she did not think it had worked, but then, Hermione noticed the bareness of the room. What had formerly been her living room was nothing now but a bare, boarded up old room. Through the wooden panels nailed over the windows, small stripes of sunlight filtered, and Hermione fell to her knees, little William still cradled firmly in her arms.

"Mummy, are you alright?" Clara watched her mother, a worried expression on the child's face as she noticed the tears spilling from her mother's eyes.

"I'm alright," Hermione assured the girl, getting shakily back to her feet.

They made their way outside into the sun together, and Hermione took in the garden - long overgrown - the wooden fence fallen into nothing long ago. She wept again.

It had worked. She was back. Back where she belonged, in a world without Lord Voldemort, where her children could grow up safe and loved, without a monster for a father.

"Hello, dove."

She nearly dropped the baby as she screamed, whirling on the spot to face the man who had spoken.

He was just as tall as ever, though his dark hair and eyes were long gone. In their place, red eyes gleamed and slit like nostrils flared at the sight of her.

"You," Hermione cried.

"Me."

"But you're dead!"

Lord Voldemort laughed, high and cold as the blood drained from Hermione's face. "You're not so lucky as that," he said, and strode forward, taking the baby from her arms and bouncing him in his own until his wails faded.

"How are you- How did you know to find me here?" Hermione watched in fascinated horror as the man who was once her husband continued to cradle her infant son, looking down at the boy with an unreadable expression. He glanced up at her question and held up a hand in answer. The sunlight caught the golden glint of a ring on his finger.

"Daddy? Is that you?" At Hermione's side, Clara squinted, looking up at Lord Voldemort with a confused expression.

"Hello, darling," he said, and the child moved towards him, studying him for a moment before deciding that the odd looking man in front of her was her father after all. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and nestled into his side.

"Did you see the lights Mummy made?"

"I did at that, love," he told her, his red eyes trained on Hermione as he spoke.

"This can't be happening," Hermione moaned, her eyes filling with tears. It was impossible. Voldemort was dead. Tom was dead! How could he be standing there, holding her children, when he should be so much dust at Harry Potter's hand?

"Harry-"

"Alive," interrupted Tom. "One of my Death Eaters, actually. You see, my dear, I learned from you after all."

"Impossible," Hermione breathed.

"Entirely true," shrugged Voldemort, and he adjusted the baby in his arms. "Would you like to see?"

He held one hand out to her, and Hermione's heart sank.

"I can't," she whispered.

"You must," he said.

She took his hand with a shudder.

* * *

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	8. Chapter 8

Blank - Please continue to chapter 9.


	9. Her Last Chance

**Wordsmiths & Betas Marriage Law One Shot Writing Competition**

\- Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. You will find this information at the bottom of each entry. Thank you for reading!

 **Title: Her Last Chance**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Drama, Romance**

 **Pairing: Hermione Granger / Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger / Viktor Krum**

 **Triggers: Emotional Abuse, Physical Abuse**

 **Warnings: Sex, Language, Ron Bashing**

 **Disclaimer:** All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the authors represented here are profiting from these stories.

* * *

 **Her Last Chance**

* * *

 **October 2000**

"The deed is done, sir." Rowle answered as he walked over to his boss. "Are you sure?" his boss replied with a nasally tone. "Yes I am sure. Kingsley Shacklebolt is dead. I fired the shot myself. I know how to kill, you should know that." Rowle shot back as he walked to the fireplace. "Good we can squash out mudbloods for good."

* * *

 **October 2001**

Hermione woke up before her alarm clock, filled with sadness; It was the year anniversary of the death of Kingsley Shacklebolt, and the day that she would find out who she was suppose to be married with. She could remember when people got married when they wanted to, out of love-not out of the fear of squibs. She got dressed in a knee-length black dress, symbolizing how she felt about the day, and set down the stairs to open her bookstore.

She had always wanted to work in the Ministry, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. But after her bad break up with Ron and not really having anyone to confide in, she left her job and used her love of books to open up a shop. As she set out to finish her shipping orders in between talking to customers the bell on the front door rang, signaling that someone had come in.

Hermione looked up from her paperwork to see Harry standing in front of her. "Oh hello Harry, why are you here so early?" Harry shook his head and replied while grabbing her coat from the back of her chair, "It is 2 o'clock; time to go get matched." Hermione nodded her head and wondered out loud, "How will they match us?" Harry laughed, "That was always left up to you. You are the smart one out of all of us." Hermione stepped out of the door, locking it and changing the sign to closed, not once realizing he had brought people with him. Once she turned around she stopped dead in her tracks to see Ginny, Luna, Neville, and Ron standing together waiting for her and Harry. Hermione quickly gather her wits about her and went to greet everyone, only welcoming Ron coolly.

Hermione set off at a brisk pace hoping to get this day over with. The Ministry had been silent on how they were going to match couples and just focused on the reason why. She knew that squibs were being produced but not at an alarming rate. She was so lost in thought that she didn't hear when Luna had walked up to her.

"Hello, Hermione," she said dreamily, jolting Hermione out of her thoughts. "Hello, Luna" Hermione said with a smile,"Who are you hoping to get matched up with today?" Luna turned around to point at Harry who had a large grin on his face, noticing that he caught her attention. Hooking her arm with Hermione, Luna smiled and said "I knew he was my soul mate since we first met, he just had to figure it out himself." Hermione, wishing she had her friends optimism asked "How do you know that you will be a match? Also what about Ginny?" Luna just shook her head "Things will work out with me and Harry, Ginny is going to be matched with someone else. The universe will work itself out, just like when you had met your soulmate." Assuming that Luna meant Ron, Hermione restrained herself from rolling her eyes.. "He is not my soul mate, Luna. We aren't good for each other."As Luna turned around to walk back with Harry, over her shoulder she called out, "I didn't mean him."Leaving Hermione nervous and alone.

Standing in the main entrance to the Ministry was a large crowd of Ministry had decided that all witches and wizards were to legally be matched. Everyone who had become of age in last year, along with everyone else under the age of 25 were eligible, despite any pre-existing marriages, unless it had resulted in children. She saw Draco standing next to Astoria, comforting her as she cried in his arms. Her heart broke for the Malfoys when she read that in the paper, she hoped that they would be paired up, with everything that had happened, they deserved to be all deserved to be happy, she thought as she looked around at many of her former classmates. Luckily, George and Angelina's son Fred had been born a few months ago, "At least one of us has been spared" she thought.

Standing on a podium was Katie Bell, trying and failing to get everyone's attention.

"Excuse me?" She said and only when she used _Sonorus_ and repeated "excuse me" did everyone stop talking and turned to her. Katie smiled and said "thank you all for coming today. She clapped her hands together "Let's get on with today" she said as she was handed papers from an Auror behind felt the nervousness in the room grow, now that it was time. If there was anything to be done now was the time she thought as she quickly stepped towards the front of the group before Katie had started to speak.

"Hang on, how does this work? Do we put our name in a hat and everyone draws out a slip of paper?" The group behind her laughed nervously but quickly died down so they could listen to the answer. "No," Katie answered as she smiled and looked across the crowd, "the unspeakables have found a spell that we have done before hand to match it up. Now when I call-"

"What?" Hermione cut her off, "a spell? What spell? How does it work?" She demanded as Katie turned to her "Miss. Granger, I can't give how the spell was performed that is for only the unspeakables to know about." Katie stated as she stared daggers at Hermione willing her to there was nothing more she'd be able to learn Hermione just put her hands up to show that she would back down.

Hermione quickly made her way back to Luna and Harry, "blimey, 'Mione. I can't believe you did that, you should've kept your mouth shut. Then again we all know you can not stand knowing how something works." Ron chastised as she walked past him. Hermione ignored him, not giving in to his taunt, turning to look at Luna like she was crazy, Hermione demanded "how can you know you will be fine with your match? They just wrote our names down and 'it magically happened'!" Ginny grabbed Hermione's hands and said while wagging her eyebrows "calm down honey. I know you are eager to meet your soulmate and get married on a white horse." Hermione laughed and felt some of the stress melt off of her, "thanks Gin." she stated and tried her best to relax with her friend. . If Hermione had been paying attention to her surrounding she would of seen that Ron had walked to the side of Harry was was staring at Hermione, like he could burn through her clothing.

"Luna Lovegood and Harry Potter" Katie's voice rang through the air. Luna gave everyone a knowing smile, grabbed Harry's hand and promptly walked out of the building, stopping only to give Hermione's hand a quick reassuring squeeze. Hermione hoped that they would be able to stay married, despite her love for Ginny, she wanted what was best for her friends and had a feeling that Luna would be just that for Harry. "Astoria Malfoy and Draco Malfoy" his last name was drowned out by everyone cheering, even if they didn't like them they were happy that married couple had beaten the law and gotten to stay together. "Ginerva Weasley and Neville Longbottom" Ginny looked at Hermione surprised and looked around to find Neville, when she saw him, his delighted smile left Ginny no choice but to smile back. Hermione thought she looked absolutely radiant when Ginny stared at Neville. Maybe, just maybe, this spell was right, she thought as she saw the apparent good matchups being made. Hermione was so lost in thought that she barely heard her name being called, "Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley". She heard as her heart dropped into her mouth had gone dry and her feet had frozen. Her mind was racing a mile a minute threatened to betray her as her vision started to go blurry. It wasn't until she felt a cold hand land in her arm that she snapped back to the present. She quickly whirled to the side where Ron was standing with a huge smile on his face. Her face twisted into a snarl and but before she could speak Ron pulled her into a tight hug whispering low in her ear.

"Now, now listen. You can't get out of this. They will put you in Azkaban if you don't get married to me, put on a happy face. Your mine now bitch." He said to her as he kept her close to his body so they would think they were elated. Over the sound of his voice she could hear clapping, she assumed for her. She tried to pulled herself out of his arms but he took a hold of her hands, knowing there was no use making a scene here, she planted a smile on her face but she was as determined as ever to get out of this sham of a marriage one way or another.

Outside her friends were waiting for her. Luna, Harry, Ginny, and Neville, the last three congratulated the new couple but Luna just gave her a tiny knowing smile. Hermione could feel the anger rushing through her veins and she knew she needed to get to the comfort of her own house before she exploded. Finally pulling herself out of Ron's slowly tightening grasp she said, "It was wonderful to see you all, Congratulation. But, I'm sorry I have to get back to work. I can't be closed any longer than this." The new couples rang out with chorus' of 'we should get together tonight or tomorrow for dinner so we can celebrate.' Hermione just nodded her head as she waved good bye and speed off. Her brain was already racing, trying to think of a way to get out of the marriage. She would have to do some research and hopefully learn enough to get out of the law before Molly Weasley went crazy with the wedding plans.

Upon reaching her shop, she was jarred from her thoughts, noticing a customer. He had long dark brown almost black locks that stopped at his shoulders, a well groomed full beard and mustache and a muscular build. "Oh I'm so sorry I was just going to keep the bookstore closed. Did you need to get something in particular?" she questioned from a few steps away As she finished speaking the man turned around and she was able to see him clearly. "Viktor?" Hermione gaped at him in disbelief. Viktor replied with a smile. "yes it is me. Is this your store?" Hermione was so stunned that all she could do was nod. "May ve catch up?" He asked with a bow. Hermione, finally having found her voice, squeaked out "yes. We can go upstairs."

While they were walking up the steps Hermione couldn't help but notice that he had gotten more attractive as the years had wondered if he still played quidditch and if he had a wife, though she scolded herself for even assuming that he didn't.

Once in her flat she started to make tea for them and while the water was boiling she called out "So Viktor why are you in town? The cup isn't for another year." Viktor walked into the kitchen and took a seat at the table, "I vas looking for new players for the team. Someone told me that the best vas out here so I decided to try it out. Tell me about your life, vat you do now?" He asked as Hermione put the tea pot with some scones on the table. "I just work here, I run it by myself as I don't really have the means to employ other people. That's really it, I sometimes see my friends but I'm so busy here that most nights I just go to bed. How about you? How is your life?" She asked. While he was talking about Quidditch she zoned out, as hard as she tried to focus she couldn't stop thinking about her bad luck. A plan had started to form into her mind just as she managed to catch the end of Viktors sentence, "I also take my clothes off for people."

" What?" Hermione blanched, see him laughing. "I vas joking, your mind is far avay. Vat is going on?" Hermione didn't want to burden him with her problems, seeing as how this was their first meeting in years but she needed help to see if her plan could work. So with a deep breath she opened up. "If I were to move to Bulgaria would the Ministry have any standing there regarding their laws?" Now it was Viktors turn to stare at her like a fish, "vat?" He asked quietly "vat is going on?" "We have a law that took place today, the Ministry matches us up with people and I got matched with Ron." Hermione spoke while she looked at the floor trying to keep the thickness out of her voice, "see we dated before and he was emotionally abusive, on the border of physically, he knew what to say and when to say it. He constantly degraded me, I was a shell of myself and now they say that I have to get married to him. I can't do that, I will do anything to get out of it." Silent tears were streaming down her face, embarrassed by what she had revealed. She felt a tiny glass be shoved into her hand not caring what it was she threw it back. She knew she'd need it to get through the rest of this conversation, but also trusting a friend.

She lifted up her head as the firewhiskey burned her throat,as she wiped the tears away she saw Viktor filling up the shot glasses again with her full bottle of Firewhiskey she had stored for emergencies, "I vill buy you another one." Viktor spoke before taking another shot. They both sat in silence, tossing back a few more before he spoke again, "I vill help you anyvay I can." Hermione, willed a small hopeful smile refilled their glasses, even though she had started to get tipsy after 4 shots. She knew that she need more comfort than a bottle had brought in the past. After her sixth shot, her eyes came to focus on Viktor. He was still the same height he was in school, he wasn't built as lean anymore and she could see his arm muscles bulging out of his shirt, that looked to small to begin with. His dark brown hair was kept back with a small piece of leather, his eyes were the same color but held more expression than she was use too.

When the bottle was halfway empty Hermione spoke with more confidence than she felt, "do you have a wife? A girlfriend?" Viktor shook his head slowly. Hermione replied back "good then I won't feel bad if I do this." She said as she shot out of her seat, the alcohol giving her courage she never had, and kissed Viktor as she straddled his lap. Viktor although surprised, quickly recovered and kissed her while he wrapped his arms around her waist holding her body close to his. While their tongues danced around each other's mouth Hermione couldn't help but react as she felt his growing erection and his hands wandering all over her body. Hermione took his hair down and ran her fingers through it as she lightly moved against his stiffness.

Hermione quickly unbuttoned his shirt and tore it away from his body to run her hands over his chest. Her lips moved from his lips to his neck as her hands wander over his arms and back. Viktor with one hand on her lower back and the other hand in her hair gently pulled back so her face was looking up and starting peppering kisses all over her neck and chest, using his tongue to dip below her top. She arched her back in appreciation, which shoved her breasts towards his face. Hermione started to grind her hips faster over the bulge in his pants as he lifted the hem of her dress waiting for her permission. She gave it silently, lifting up her bottom so he could yank the dress off over her head and was thrown on the floor with his shirt. As their lips connected again there was a new, fiery passion between them. Viktor grabbed onto Hermione's waist, locking her legs behind him and stood up, making sure she could feel him between her legs as he walked carefully over to the couch that he quickly transfigured it into a bed, and slowly laid her down, only pulling away from between her legs to kiss his way down to her navel.

Needing to have him, Hermione grabbed his face and brought it up to hers, "not slow right now, I need it to be hard," she breathed out before undoing his belt and pants. Viktor nodded understanding that she needed a relief only he could give her right now and helped Hermione pull off his pants and boxers. As he pulled her forward so he could unclasp her bra her hands were trailing down his chest to grab his fullness, he leaned his head down as if he was going to kiss her, Hermione let out a gasp as his mouth instead enveloped her nipple. When she felt his tongue lavish her nipple she couldn't keep it quiet anymore and moaned. Not to be outdone she let her fingers flutter lower, appreciating the hardness in her hand before she took it firmly and started to pump up and down. Feeling him react under her hand, she cradled his balls with her other hand and latched on his ear lobe. Knowing if he let her go much longer that it would be over before it began he breathed out in a ragged whisper, "ready?" Positioned at her core, he waited until he felt the nod of her head and thrusted. Waiting until she started to move, not wanting to hurt her, was torturous, being with her felt like he was coming home

After Hermione realized that Viktor was waiting she began to move her hips in a circle needing Viktor to take the fire out of her lower half. He started to thrust in and out faster, making sure to lavish, roughly, the top half of Hermione while she withered underneath him. Hermione let her hands roam all over his back, occasionally putting her hands into his hair and yanking back so she could kiss his neck or digging her nails in as if she could leave a claim on his back. She felt very content as he was roughly pushing in and out of her, neither of them being gentle with the other. "Oh please Viktor, don't stop. I'm about to go," Hermione moaned in his ear, "need you," he grunted as he sped up his thrusts. They both yelled out each other's name as they came while a bright blinding light had engulfed them.

The next morning Hermione had awoken with their limbs tangled, her head using his chest as a pillow. She glanced over and saw Viktor's face as the prior night's events came rushing back to her. She started to overthink what had happened, why was there a bright light? While she didn't regret it, it what she wanted to happen since she first met him, she wondered if he did. While her mind was running in circles Viktor opened his eyes and turned to face her.

"Good morning beautiful." He said with a smile, "vhy are you so tense?" he wondered as he leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips. Hermione smiled softly "what happened last night, do you regret it? What happens now?"

Viktor moved so he could sit up and lean against the back of the couch, smiling once he saw her eyes hungrily wandering over his now uncovered body. "First, ve had sex last night. No, I do not regret it. Last night meant a lot to me, I have vanted to make love to you since I got to see you in that blue dress at the yule ball. Vat do you vant to happen now? I vant you, I alvays have, do you vant me?" he asked as he took her face into her hands so he could stare into her eyes.

Hermione took a deep breath, digesting what he had told her. After a few seconds of processing his words, she shook her head. "Yes, I think I do. I still remember how you took my breath away when you kissed me all those years ago and you still do. Let's see if I can get out if this 'marriage' and then let's take things slow."

Viktor added, "I vill marry you if that is only vay to get out of it and then ve take things slow. Ve vill be dating but married. I vill not let you marry that disgusting pig. I vill go and talk to my Ministry." Hermione leaned slightly forward and kissed Viktor, feeling hopeful for the first time in days. He rested the palms of his hands on her cheeks and his finger tips resting in her hair, deepening the kiss.

Loud forceful knocking interrupted their snog session that was quickly turning hot and heavy. Hermione responded with a groan as she tore her lips away from his, took her hands from his chest and buried her hands into his hair. "let's ignore whoever it is, they should go away." She said as Viktor nodded and pulled her face to his as he slide down, so she was laying on top of him. "'Moine!," They could hear coming from the door, "I know your home now open up the door." Hermione quickly jumped up and rushed to get dressed, "It's Ronald," she said "get dressed." She left him in the living room to go put up her hair up and change into fresh clothes. Viktor slowly got ready, used his fingers to brush through his hair and walked into the kitchen. Hermione flew panicked into the kitchen, waving her wand so the dishes put themselves in the sink. "Please just say that you came today, no one knows what Ron did. I want to tell them myself." Viktor grabbed her around the waist and kissed her, halting her steps and her thoughts. Hermione stepped back and wrapped her arms around him, "thank you." before she could turn around Viktor picked up her wand and waved it over her. She looked at him confused, "you have love bites all over you, it looks vonderful on you but he won't like it." Viktor added, his eyes darkening while he spoke.

Slowing down, Hermione walked down to the front of the shop to let Ron in."What took you so long? I have been here for hours, you have to let me in. We are going to be married now, or did you forget?" Hermione, still riding on the high from kissing Viktor felt her mood darken, "sorry I had a visitor, we were catching up." At the top of the stairs, before her hand touched the doorknob Ron grabbed her arm and yanked her backwards so she slammed into him. Not wanting to cry out and alert Viktor, she quickly bit the inside of her cheek "Who is it?" he hissed in her ear, "did you fuck him too?" Hermione kept her face straight, yanked her arm out of his grasp and opened the door, "it's Viktor, you remember him don't you Ronald? He is just in town for a visit and come by to look at a book." Viktor stood up to shake Ron's hand, "hello Ron, nice to see you again. Vell it vas nice to catch up Herm-own-ninny. Ve must do it again before I leave tomorrow." He waved good bye, not wanting to go near her in case he kissed her.

"What the fuck was that?" Ron shouted as soon as he thought Viktor was far enough away to not hear him, "you will not see him again. You are my witch, no one will take you away from me." He stepped closer to her, "I mean it Hermione, you can't get out of this. You belong to me. Now come to the Burrow at 6, we are planning our wedding, which will happen this Saturday, so I expect you to be there tonight." Ron turned on his heel and walked out of her flat.

Hermione's blood boiled, without Viktors peaceful presence she started to pace, wanting to keep the store closed and go down to the Ministry to get a look at the law. She decided to do just that. Screw losing money, her whole life could be ruined. So she changed the sign on her door, and locked up. She walked into the Ministry, head over to the elevator to level 2 for the Department of magical law enforcement. "Hello miss. How may I help you today?" a man she didn't recognize had called out to her from a desk somewhere to her right. "Hello sir. I was wondering if I could get a look at the marriage law?" Hermione asked as she walked closer to the front of his desk, looking for a name plate. "Why do you want the law? I can't give you the actual law but I can explain it to you. Did you not like your match?" Hermione shook her head and grimaced, not wanting to do this in front of the entire floor but having no choice.

"The law states that you must marry your match within a month, the only way you can get out of it is death, no baby within 5 years, or produce a squib baby" a nasally voice man answered behind her. Hermione turned around and exclaimed, "oh Minister Furmage, you scared me." Minister Furmage looked down his nose and asked, "Why did you want to know about this law? Who you are paired with will save the Wizarding World. It is what is best for everyone. I hope you have a good day and get your marriage plans started." The minister didn't give Hermione a chance to answer and promptly turned around and walked away. Hermione stood stunned until the man at the desk cleared his throat, she nodded her head and quickly exited the floor lost in her thoughts.

The Minister walked back into his office and told the red haired man sitting with his back to him. "You were right," he said with a sneer, "she was asking about the law. You said she was compassionate?" He waited until he was confirmed with a nod, "good then she won't be able to get out of it. No matter you aren't her actual match." Ron stood up and walked towards the door, locking it, "I don't care if I'm not her match by the time she can divorce me she will be a pathetic witch and no one will want her. Why do you want this law anyway?" The minister sat down behind his desk, " I want to rid the world of mudbloods, once pureblood especially accept the half blood child they will become purebloods." "Okay" Ron stated "that makes no sense but whatever. Remember," he snarled as he got right on the minister's face. "If you tell her that I'm not her match I will tell the world how I remember you being a snatcher from the war." The minister, not used to being so openly threatened, froze like a statue and didn't move until Ron left. He hated that anyone had a hold over him, especially when he got a fire call from the Bulgarian Ministry asking if Mr. Krum could marry Hermione Granger.

Back at her flat Hermione sent off a owl for Viktor with a note that read: 'Dear Viktor, I can't get out of the marriage, there is no way. I have to go to his mom's house but I was wondering if we could meet here after around 9? I am apparently getting married in 4 days, I would love to spend one night with you, truly catching up. Please send an owl before 6 if you can, if not I understand." She got ready slowly hoping to seeing an owl, but with no owl in sight she altered her wards so they would let Viktor in and went to the Burrow. No sooner had she stepped out, she was accosted by Luna, who grabbed her hands and pulled her outside.

"So I can see you found him, how was it?" Luna exclaimed excitedly while Hermione stared at Luna like she said 3 heads, "what? How was what?" Luna replied with a laugh, "the sex! I can see that your aura changed and you became one with your soul mate." Hermione glanced around anxiously and pulled Luna farther away from the house, "is that what that bright light was?" Luna nodded as Hermione continued, "It was Viktor and it was amazing, he makes me feel safe and loved, but we can't be together. I can't get out, I'm stuck. I just hope I can survive these 5 years." she cried as Luna pulled her into a hug, "I'm glad that he makes you feel safe but there is always a way." Hermione interjected with "no there isn't Luna. I know you are about true love and so am I but it just won't work like that. I'm sorry." She added sadly and walked back to the Burrow, hoping she could keep her happy face on, she would have to for many years.

Stepping out of the fireplace at her house, she fell into a chair. She was so worn out from planning a wedding she didn't want and Ron's side remarks that she didn't hear the water running in her kitchen. She quickly pulled out her wand and crept to just outside the kitchen, she jumped into the middle of the doorway and shouted "who are you?" Viktor slowly turned around with a plate of tiramisu in his hands, "I can't put my hands up. I decided that you vould have a hard night so I vanted to give you a treat." Hermione put her wand down on the counter she ran over to Viktor, burying herself into his chest. Viktor just let her cry, he pulled her over to a chair in the kitchen and pulled her into his lap, whispering sweet words into her ear.

After 15 minutes of crying, Hermione pulled her head back and tried to talk through the hiccups, "thank," hic, "you. It means," hic, "a lot. I have," hic, "bad news." Viktor kisses her forehead and said, "me too. My Ministry can not do anything. It would start vars . Please breathe and calm down." It took Hermione 5 more minutes before she could get a handle on her breathing, keeping her eyes staring at his chest so she wouldn't see the disappointment in his eyes. "The only way I could get out is if he dies, or I produce a squib baby or no baby in 5 years." If Hermione was looking into Viktor's face she would of seen it hardened when she mentioned the options. "I would like to spend one more night with you before you have to go. One more night as a free women." Viktor just nodded his head, to angry to speak. "Let's eat the cake and I can have you for dessert." Hermione giggled and called plates and forks to her with a wave of her hand, still sitting in Viktors lap she cut them each a piece of the tiramisu. They talked of happier times, like when they met at Hogwarts and they laughed themselves silly when they discussed the first time Viktor spoke to Hermione.

After finishing her piece she got off of Viktors lap and unbutton the top she was wearing, "I'm going to go take a shower you can meet me when you're finished if you want." She said as she walked down the hall to her bedroom, taking her clothes off piece by piece so she was naked by the time she got to the shower. She had just got her body wet when the door opened and Viktor stepped in. Hermione smiled and roughly pushed him against the wall, kissing him. Viktor wanted to take things slower, gently ran his hands over her body, pushing her backwards towards the kissed her, enjoying the taste of cake still on her lips while he reached for her soap. He took his time, lathering her up and watched some of the day's stress melt away. Appreciating every inch of her, both with his hands and his mouth he felt himself needing her more than he'd ever needed anything before. Determined to not let the dark thoughts regarding their future take over, he kissed her deeply, hoping to convey all his feelings with that kiss. Pulling away Hermione dropped to her knees to take him into her mouth. She wrapped one hand around his base and used the other hand to gently caress his thighs. While she was moving back and forth, switching up her speeds and moaning, Viktor took a fistful of her hair and held on tight while using his other hand to keep him from falling on top of her. After she was finished he pulled her up and kiss her hard, "That vas magnificent." Viktor reached over and switched the water off, "let's move to the bed, I vant to vorship every inch of you." Without waiting for an answer he picked her up, one hand underneath her and the other on the small of her back, smiling as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

He gently laid her on the bed, starting with her ankles slowly began kissing his way up her body. When he got to her core, he gave a long slow suck, and used his tongue make her squirm. She wrapped her legs around his head, and held onto her hips while his tongue swirled around her clit. He abruptly stopped making Hermione pout, which he laughed at and continued kissing his way as up to her lips. He positioned his himself at her core and stared into her eyes.

"Herm-own-ninny, I loff you. I vill vait for you, no matter how long it takes."

Hermione stared up at Viktor with love and adoration in her eyes, she couldn't believe that this man who had barely known her in school had loved her. She couldn't trust herself to speak so she just kissed him, hoping to put all of her feelings into the kiss. She thrusted upward so his thickness hit her core and her hips met his hips. Viktor slowly moved in and out dragging out his thrusts, Hermione, angry at the slow moving, flipped him over so she was sitting on top. She put her hands on his chest and started to bounce up and down, Viktor traveled his hands all over her stomach and chest to finally rest on her breasts. He leaned forward and captured her nipple in his mouth, making her gasp out loud. Once Hermione started to climax she whispered loudly, "I love you too" and made Viktor climax with her.

While laying in each other's arms Viktor said. "did you mean it?" Hermione glanced up into his eyes and replied "yes, I did mean it. My friend Luna said that you were my soul mate and I didn't believe it until now. I am safe, happy, and content in your arms. I wish this law could be abolished ." Viktor just sighed in contentment like he agreed with her, "I must leave in a fev hours. Could I just lay vith you?" Hermione cuddled back into his embrace and slowly fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

The next 4 days had passed in a blur for Hermione, the only thing that kept her sane was the fact that Viktor left his shirt from their first still smelled like him. She changed into it as soon as she got home if she had no company, and didn't take it off until the next morning. She had never felt this way back in Hogwarts but she had school and keeping Harry safe to keep her from going to crazy. She tried to be happy when people asked to her about her marriage, surprisingly Harry didn't ask her much. Harry just asked how she was doing and how the store was doing, he stayed away from marriage topics and she wondered if Luna had something to do with that but whatever the reason was, she was grateful that she didn't have to pretend with two people.

Her big day had finally arrived, standing in a room that Mrs. Weasley and Ginny had just vacated Hermione started at her reflection. She looked every bit of blushing bride. Her hair was cascading down her back in tight curls, with very minimal makeup on, only to emphasize her wedding dress had a sweetheart neckline and went all the way to the floor, accentuated with a silver belt and tied in a little bow on her back. She loved the dress that Ginny picked out for her, but she couldn't be happy because this wedding was a sham. When she heard a knock on the door signaling that they were all waiting on her she took a deep breath and walked to Mr. Weasley. "Wow Hermione, you look beautiful." Arthur said as he took her arm, he waited until Ginny and Luna walked to the altar before adding, "I'm sorry that you have to go through with this. I wish I could help." Hermione spun her head to the side and looked at Arthur, "what?" she squeaked out, she thought she had done so well. Arthur just patted her hand and said, "I know you don't want to be with him. I see how he is, believe me I tried to do everything to help but I couldn't. Just please if it gets too much come to us and we will help you." Arthur passed her off to Ron without another word.

Hermione was barely paying attention to any of the words the Ministry official was saying, until a voice broke through her day dream. "I object to this marriage." Viktor's voice rang throughout the church. Ron spun around to face him, and pulled out his wand, "you don't belong here. 'Mione I told you to get rid of him. You can't start our marriage fucking someone else." The whole room gasped as they started at the threesome, but before anyone else could say something Viktor stepped forward from the doors and said "leave her be, you don't loff her, you vant to control her.I challenge you to a vizards duel." Ron laughed in his face and said "I accept, I won't need a second seeing how I will win." Viktor just nodded his head, figuring that Ron would be determined to have no second.

Hermione ran over to him and sobbed, "No please don't do this. I will be fine." Viktor pulled Hermione into a tight hug and said, "no my love, you can't live vith him for 5 years. It vill destroy you." He gave her a kiss on the forehead and pointed his head to the doors. Ron smiled and walked past Viktor, getting ready to show Hermione that once and for all she was his and he would slash down anyone who tried to take her from him.

Standing 2 yards apart the wizards lifted their wands and waited for the other person to strike. Ron went first and threw an _expelliarmus_ which Viktor followed up with an _Anteoculatia_ , which Ron blocked it. Ron called out _avis_ and large black birds flew out of his wand. Hermione stared in horror as she watched the spell she loved used against her lover. " _Oppungo,"_ Ron cried out as he slashed his wand down like a sword. Viktor just called out _confringo,_ blasting the birds into flames with a smile on his face. " _Impedimenta"_ Viktor called out tripping Ron so he fell flat on his face. Ron was getting angry that Viktor had managed to land a jinx when he hadn't so Ron tried to throw Viktor's concentration off so he could land a spell. "She looks good in a wedding dress doesn't she? That is all for me, you won't be able to touch her ever again, even if I didn't kill you and just left you alive. That bitch belongs to me, I will do whatever I want, whenever I want." The entire wedding party let out a cry when they realized what he meant. They all glanced at Hermione with sympathetic eyes while they stared at Ron in horror. The only person not getting angry was Molly, she didn't believe that Ron had really meant those things, he was just trying to win. Even when she saw her husband walk over and hold Hermione she still didn't want to say it was true. When Ron could tell that Viktors concentration had broken, he threw a _sectumsempra_ , that cut Viktor's wand arm down to the bone. Crying out loudly Viktor grasped his arm and knew that he had to finish this quickly, he shouldn't of let Ron's words get to him. Switching his wand into this other arm Viktor called out Levicorpus, pulling Ron up by his ankle. Viktor couldn't do much else because he was losing blood fast but knew that he had to time it just right so he pulled his wand up and down a little bit so Ron would get dizzy and then called out Liberacorpus so Ron would end up on his head. All Viktor remembered before he passed out was Hermione running over to him and waving her wand saying, " _ferula"_ to create a bandage and splint for him.

He awoke in a bed with white sheets and heard voices outside the door. "I need to see him, please it's important….Okay well can you tell him I stopped by?" The door opened to reveal a healer and no one else, "ah Mr. Krum, you are awake, how are you feeling? Does your arm hurt?" Viktor moved his right arm up and down and shook his head no, "who vas outside?" He uttered in a low voice. The healer just smiled and continued to wave his wand over Viktor body to check his stats, "well you have been out for 3 days. You lost a lot of blood but you made a full recovery. You are allowed to go home but no more quidditch or any strenuous activity until you see a Healer in a month." The healer then promptly walked out and Hermione snuck in not a minute later.

"Oh you're awake!" she exclaimed once she saw Viktor staring at her, she then rushed over to his side and gave him a hug and a kiss. "Oh I have missed you, I wasn't able to come see you until today because I got hauled into the Ministry and then I had to put out fires with Ron's family. Most of them are okay with what happened once I fully explained everything." Viktor pulled back far enough to stare at her face and say "I'm sorry that you had to go through that, I didn't vant to tell you because you vouldn't of agreed. I hope you still vant me. Vat happened after I passed out?" Hermione took her time speaking, choosing her words carefully, "well when you dropped him on his head, he got knocked out. Then Aurors were called to assess the situation, they took all three of us into custody. They viewed my memories to see that it was justified, then they had to figure out who win because he is still alive." Viktor tightened the hold her on her hand, nervous to hear the outcome. "They have decided that you will win because the drop caused a lot of damage, the healer's say if he wakes up he will be a quadriplegic," Hermione's eyes bulged out of her head and quickly added, "oh yes I do still watch to be with you, of course." She had just finished this statement when the door opened with Luna and Harry walking in. "Hello you two. I'm glad to see the aura strong around you both " Luna stated dreamily, while staring at the air surrounding them. Harry smiled proudly at his fiance, "I wish you would've told me yourself but I understand." Harry walked over to Viktor and held out his hand, "take good care of her where ever you go." Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes and settled her back against Viktors good arm. Viktor leaned down to whisper in her ear, "run avay vith me, my love." Hermione looked over her shoulder to nod and give Viktor a heated kiss.

* * *

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	10. In the Eyes of the Law

**Wordsmiths & Betas Marriage Law One Shot Writing Competition**

\- Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. You will find this information at the bottom of each entry. Thank you for reading!

 **Title: In the Eyes of the Law**

 **Rating: T**

 **Genre: Humor**

 **Pairing: Theodore Nott / Hermione Granger, side Draco Malfoy / Harry Potter**

 **Triggers: None**

 **Warnings: OOC characters**

 **Disclaimer:** All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the authors represented here are profiting from these stories.

* * *

 **In the Eyes of the Law**

* * *

"You want me to do what?"

Hermione stared at Kingsley Shacklebolt in horror. Kingsley didn't laugh.

"I want you to publicly support the new Marriage Law that will come into effect at the end of this month. You, of all people, Hermione, you must understand why we're doing this." He glanced at her arm, where the Mudblood scar stood out, pale letters on dark skin. She flinched and pulled her sleeve down to cover the slur.

"Over the last few years there has been a dramatic drop in magical births, partly because the generation that grew up with the War has been reluctant to settle down. The Wizengamot has decided to enforce a Marriage Law to encourage young witches and wizards to create families of their own and ensure the future of our people. And they want to do away with the distinction between Muggle-born, half-blood and pureblood at the same time. So they have decreed that purebloods must marry a half-blood or Muggle-born. That will do away with the notion of purebloods in one, a maximum of two generations! There will never again be a blood war, not when everyone's blood is mixed."

He glanced at the now covered scar again and let his words sink in. The fire in Hermione's eyes indicated that she wasn't done fighting yet.

"If you do not abide by this law, your wand will be snapped," Kingsley said, just as she drew a breath to start arguing against his points. Hermione's mouth dropped open.

"You are serious. You really are serious. This isn't some elaborate joke?"

Kingsley only shook his head.

Hermione sighed, her fingers stroking the wand in her robe pocket. "You realize I'm perfectly capable of surviving without magic," she said, eventually. "I grew up in the Muggle world. It's not that much of a threat to me. I will not…"

Kingsley quickly interrupted her. "But do you really think you can live without magic, knowing it exits, knowing you once had access to this magnificent well of power? Is not marriage a small price to pay? Besides, you and Ron have been together for so long, the public expects a marriage announcement any time. It would start off the new law under the best possible circumstances… A grand wedding between the two War Heroes… Yes, I can just see the Daily Prophet articles…"

Kingsley stared off into space and dreamed of the sorely needed good publicity it would bring the Ministry. Yes, a law like this and a big society wedding would definitely divert attention from more pressing matters, like budget cuts and mass unemployment and their failed attempts to curb inflation. His attention was called back to the witch in front of him when she shoved her chair backwards, its legs screeching on the floor.

"I am not supporting such a… such an atrocious infringement of my freedom. I'm going to do everything I can to stop it, you see if I don't." Sparks flew from Hermione's wild curls, which seemed to have doubled in size as she rose from her seat.

Kingsley shook his head again and tutted in dismay.

"You won't be able to stop it, Hermione, the vote has been cast. And Ron already agreed. _He_ seems to understand that the Law only serves the greater good of Wizarding society."

Hermione let out a barked laugh.

"He only wants to shackle me into marriage and get me back into his bed. If you think I'm ever marrying that prat after what he's done, you're off your rocker. I'll sooner let you snap my wand than letting him touch me again."

She blasted the door open with a wave of her hand and stomped out. She turned around in the doorway, her wand trained on the man she had once considered a friend.

"I can't believe this is what you've come to, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Our generation didn't fight an adult's War only to be treated like cattle. Haven't we sacrificed enough? You're a disgrace to the post of Minister for Magic. Expect my resignation letter later today."

* * *

Harry Potter looked up in surprise when his door was slammed open and a furious Hermione Granger entered his office.

"Did you know about this Marriage Law malarkey?" she demanded.

Harry blinked in confusion and turned towards the other desk in his office, where Ron was trying to hide behind stacks of paperwork.

"What are you talking about, Hermione? What Marriage Law?"

"Shacklebolt called me to his office today to tell me it was my _civic duty_ as a good employee of the Ministry to support the forthcoming Marriage Law that would force all single and childless witches and wizards under the age of 45 to get married and produce offspring to repopulate the wizarding world. And to eradicate blood prejudice, purebloods have to choose among half-bloods and

Muggle-borns. Can you believe it?"

Harry rose from his seat and walked around his desk.

"Fuck Merlin," he said, leaning against his desk, arms crossed. "Did you know about this, Ron?"

He turned towards his friend, who had grabbed his wand and was cautiously straightening up. He was too slow to counter the silencing hex Hermione shot his way, though.

"That little tosser," Hermione seethed, her wand still pointing at him," has already agreed to be the poster boy for the new law. In fact, he agreed to marry me in a big public wedding for the sake of the Ministry."

Harry couldn't help laughing.

"Seriously? Did you really think that was going to work?"

Ron had turned bright red and tried to say something but no sound came out of his mouth.

Harry shook his head and watched with avid interest to see what Hermione would do next.

"You're such an idiot, Ronald Weasley, to think I would take you back after all the times you cheated on me, just to comply with some silly law! I'd marry Malfoy before I'd ever consider marrying you."

"Hey!" Harry glared at her, but Hermione only waved her hand dismissively.

"You know I don't mean anything by it, Harry. I like the prat well enough now, as long as you keep him on a tight leash." She turned back to Ron, still furious. "Get it into that thick skull of yours. I know you're not stupid so you should be able to understand. It. Is. Not. Going. To. Happen."

Ron made to move towards her, all puppy eyes and begging face, and she hit him with the Bat-bogey Hex, which made him flee towards the Ministry infirmary, bats flying from his nose at every breath, leaving surprised laughter in his wake.

Hermione and Harry watched him go in silence. When the laughter in the hallways had died down, Harry closed the door with a wave of his wand. He ran a hand through his messy black hair, making it stand up in tufts left and right.

"So, this marriage law thing. You're serious? They'll force us to get married and have kids?"

Hermione nodded.

"But what about Draco and me?" Harry asked, his gaze straying towards the picture of a cockily grinning Draco Malfoy on his desk.

Hermione blinked and tilted her head to the side. She, too, looked at the picture of Draco Malfoy

and then shrugged.

"I have no idea. I was so outraged by the suggestion that I should marry Ron that I forgot about same-sex couples. I need to find a copy of this Law to figure out what it really says. Dinner tonight? Make sure Draco doesn't escape. We'll need all the help we can get to end this thing before it gains traction. I can't believe this is about eradicating blood prejudice or increasing birth rates. Those old codgers in the Wizengamot are abusing their power just to get more grandchildren, you mark my words." She drew herself up to her full height and lifted her chin in the air defiantly. "I am more than some _womb_ waiting to be impregnated."

She turned on her heel and stormed out again, heading towards the office of the Keeper of Records to find the documents she'd need.

"I thought you wanted children," Harry yelled after her. She flicked her finger at him as she hurried away.

Harry slumped on his desk, cradling the picture of his partner in his hands. They'd faced so much adversity when they first got together, they'd been through so much already. He couldn't bear the thought of losing Draco now. There really was only one thing to do.

* * *

"It's bad," Hermione said as she stepped out of the Floo and quickly vanquished the soot from her clothes. Draco looked up from his book, his finger on the line he'd just read. Hermione hated it when people did that. Mostly because she did it herself whenever she wanted people to hurry up and just leave her to read.

"Potter's in the kitchen," he said, his eyes already travelling back to the page. "Go on through."

"Come on, Malfoy, you need to hear this. The Ministry has fucked us over well and good this time," Hermione said, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him out of his comfortable chair.

"Can't be worse than when they let Fudge proclaim that Mouldie Voldie hadn't returned to ruin our lives," Draco grumbled, but he let Hermione pull him towards the kitchen. When she plonked her little beaded bag on the table with a resounding thud, he knew he was in for a long evening.

"So? Did you find anything?" Harry asked after the usual greetings and a slightly awkward and clumsy hug during which the knife he was holding just about managed not to get caught in Hermione's hair. He turned back to his chopping board without waiting for the answer. He knew Hermione would talk at his back anyway.

"It's really, really bad," Hermione said as she settled herself on her favourite chair and pulled a colour-coded stack of notes from her bag. And a quill. And a roll of fresh parchment. And a fresh loaf of bread from their favourite French bakery. Draco always marvelled at the things women kept in their purses.

"The Law clearly states that the matches should be between couples of the opposite sex, that they are required to produce children within three years of their marriage or it will automatically be annulled and people will be reassigned a new partner, and purebloods must marry either a half-blood or a Muggleborn. They are prohibited from marrying other purebloods. I searched all afternoon, and I just can't find a loophole in any of the stipulations."

She sighed and crossed her arms with a petulant pout.

"Can I have a look?" Draco asked. He caught the stack of parchment she levitated over to him and was soon engrossed in reading.

"It's so unfair! We've already had to give up our childhood fighting a War the adults should have taken care of, and now they're taking away our adult life choices as well! And they're not even taking in account people's sexuality! I mean, that's so homophobic. I thought same-sex relationships were quite accepted in Wizarding society, but apparently it's more important to create more magical children than it is to have happy adults. I mean, what are you and Draco going to do when you're both forced to pair up with a woman?"

Draco shuddered at the very thought.

"You did offer to marry Malfoy," Harry said over his shoulder as he tossed the carrots in the stir-fry. "After all, he is quite fit… I can attest to that!"

"I was joking!" Hermione exclaimed, her cheeks pink from embarrassment. One drunken confession that Draco Malfoy was indeed quite fit - although her exact words had been a little more explicit than that - and if only he wasn't so utterly and completely gay, and less of a prat, she'd totally do him, and Harry never let her forget it.

"It's too late anyway," Draco said after shaking his head with a pinched expression.

"What do you mean, too late?"

Draco held out his hand and wiggled his ring finger. A simple platinum band glinted in the firelight.

"You got married? But what about Harry?"

Harry changed the spatula he was stirring with to his other hand and showed his own platinum band over his shoulder.

"You got married? To each other? Without me?" Hermione's voice rose in pitch with every word, until it was so shrill both men had to clamp their hands over their ears.

"We'd been talking about it already. And you know it's possible for two men to get married in the Muggle world. So we got our paperwork sorted, I pulled a few strings with the people who owed me favours and we got married at the Registry Office this afternoon. You know Muggle civil marriages are recognised in the Wizarding world," Harry said.

Hermione stared at both of them, mouth gaping.

"I think we finally broke her," Draco said, grinning.

"She is awfully quiet," Harry agreed. "Put the plates out, will you, Husband? The food's just about ready."

"Of course, Husband, dearest."

The men smiled at each other with a tenderness in their eyes and a softening of their features that made Hermione's heart clench painfully. She averted her eyes, feeling as though she was intruding on something too intimate to witness. And she'd know, since she'd walked into the two of them shagging more than once.

"You were right, Granger," Draco said to her as he served the food. "The wording of the law is watertight. I don't think there's anything you can do to stop this, unless you can get all the under 45's to rebel. But you won't. Some people will use this as the impetus to get their partner to propose, others won't care that much. Some may even be happy that the Ministry will choose a partner for them and that they will finally get to have that family they always dreamed about. A fair amount of people will be outraged, of course, but many purebloods won't openly oppose the Ministry for fear of retaliation. Or being condemned as blood purists."

"Are you saying I should just accept that this is going to happen?" Hermione asked, her eyes flashing dangerously and her hair crackling with magic.

Draco shrugged. "No, of course not. But I suggest you find a creative way around it, like we did. Why should you be the one taking on the task to fight the Ministry on this? It's not like you're the only one affected by it."

Hermione glared at him. "That's easy for you to say, now you're married and safe."

Draco smirked and glanced affectionately at Harry, who had decided not to get involved in the discussion.

"So you're not going to help?" Hermione asked with a disappointed scowl.

Harry reached over the table to grab her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "Of course we'll help you. I want to see you happy, Hermione."

She smiled at him and some of the tension in her shoulders disappeared. She knew she could count on Harry. He'd always be by her side, no matter what.

* * *

"Hey Hermione, have you heard the rumours? They say the Ministry is going to force us to get married and have kids! Surely that's not true?"

"I'm afraid it is, Neville."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"I'm looking into the possibilities."

* * *

"Hermione! Have you heard? I might get Harry to marry me after all!"

"Whatever do you mean, Ginny?"

"With that new marriage law. Percy told me all about it. He says they made it specifically to make sure the Saviour would have children, and who else is he going to marry?"

"Who else indeed."

* * *

"Hermione, you have to find something to stop them! This can't be serious. You realise this is

rape, right? Forcing someone to have sex?"

"You needn't try to convince me, Hannah. I know it's a horrible situation. But I don't know what to do!"

"But you're Hermione Granger! Surely you can find some solution so we don't have to do anything like this? Isn't there something you can find, some old law or a spell, in some obscure book or other? If anyone can find a way out of this, it's you!"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. But I've spent every waking hour of the past two weeks researching and I've come up with nothing."

"But you have to! You can't let this happen!"

"I'm trying…"

* * *

The Atrium was packed when Kingsley Shacklebolt took the stage to announce the new Marriage Law, to take effect immediately. People would have one month to register with a partner of their choice, after which the Ministry would start pairing people up.

Hermione stood, quietly fuming, in a dark corner near the Floo as she listened to the explanation. She saw several people glance at her expectantly, as if she'd just whip a solution out of her hat to make it all go away.

She was so, so tired of other people expecting her to clean up their messes. She had done her best, goddammit. She'd done the research, she'd petitioned the Wizengamot, she'd accosted the Honourable Members of the Wizengamot in the corridors and Diagon Alley and she had even followed one guy into a sleazy bar in Knockturn Alley. She'd quickly Disapparated when she realised she'd entered a sex club and struck Barnabus Clearwater off her list of contacts. She'd come up empty and she hated it. But that gratuitous assumption that she'd take up arms and save them all _again_ was just too much. Draco's words from that dinner almost a month ago kept playing in her head. _It's not like you're the only one who's affected._ So now she was just tired of fighting, tired of being the heroine, tired, tired, tired. Let someone else organise the protests.

Her attention was called back to the stage when, to her utter horror, Ron stepped onto it, a huge bunch of flowers in one hand and a little ring box in the other. He rattled off some prepared speech about supporting the decision and Hermione could feel the dread settle in the pit of her stomach.

Ron chuckled at a lousy pun some speech writer had thought it funny enough to include and cleared his throat. "In fact, today is the perfect moment to take the next step myself. I feel I've waited too long to do this. There is a woman in my life I love more than any other, and I cannot imagine my life without her. She is the light of my life, the sunshine in my heart, the warm kitchen fire on a cold winter day. She is my everything. Hermione Granger, I love you. Will you marry me?"

Hermione watched as he dropped on one knee, holding out both the bouquet and the ring. A path seemed to clear as if by magic between herself and the stage, and everybody turned towards her with bated breath and excitement in their eyes to hear her response. She turned pale with fury.

"Ronald Weasley, you complete and utter arse! I've told you this before and I'm telling you again, I'm never, ever marrying you. Merlin's hairy balls, man, why won't you take 'no' for an answer?" She didn't even have to shout to be heard throughout the Atrium. Everybody stared at her in shocked silence. Ron recovered first.

"But, Hermione, you have to! Who else are you going to marry? It's not like you're getting any younger, and you're definitely not the easiest witch to live with. How much choice do you think you have? Come on, we'd be happy together, I know we would be, and…"

"Anyone! I'd marry anyone rather than you!" she yelled. Her eyes scanned the crowd and fell on Theodore Nott, a friend of Draco's she'd had some fairly pleasant conversations with in the past. He'd do. She walked up to him and poked him in the chest.

"You. You're not in a relationship, are you?" At Theodore Nott's hesitant shake of the head, Hermione nodded decisively and grabbed his hand.

"Good. Let's get married, then."

And before the eyes of hundreds of witches and wizards, the press and over a dozen photographers, she dragged a bewildered Theodore Nott behind her towards the lifts.

"What the fuck, Hermione? Where the bloody hell do you think you're going?" Ron shouted, making his way through the crowd to try and cut her off, his bouquet of flowers bumping into people left and right, leaving a trail of daisy petals and broken rose stems behind.

"Why, to the Registry Office, of course," Hermione answered in a singsong voice.

"Hermione! For Godric's sake! Let go of that snake and drop the dramatics. You're going to marry me, the wedding's all planned!"

Hermione pressed the lift button and waited for the doors to open, her foot tapping impatiently and loudly in the stunned silence of the Atrium. She still had one hand firmly around Theodore Nott's wrist.

"I'm not marrying you, Ronald Weasley. And you can't force me. If you thought you were going to manipulate me into accepting you with this grand public proposal, think again. Go find someone else for that wedding you planned," she said as the disembodied voice of the lift announced,

"Ministry of Magic. The Atrium. Doors opening."

She stepped into the empty lift, dragging Theodore Nott with her, and turned to look at Ron with an angry glare.

"I'll never forgive you for this, you bastard," she said. She pressed the button for the fourth floor and waited while the voice announced that the doors were closing. Then they were jerked down and left and down and right and up again with the speed of a rollercoaster. She had to let go of Theodore to hold on to the side railing with both hands.

"Ministry of Magic. Fourth Floor. Keeper of Records. Registry Office."

Hermione and Theodore walked out of the lift and sat down stiffly in the empty waiting area. Everyone else was still in the Atrium.

"So, you want to marry me? Not quite the marriage proposal I dreamed of," Theodore said, a crooked smile on his face. "Or did you just want to annoy the Weasel and was I a convenient scapegoat?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not sure what I was thinking. But the more I consider the idea, the more I think we should get married."

Theodore regarded her curiously, but she didn't elaborate.

"Granger, you know I'm gay, right?" he said, after a long silence.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Theodore tugged on his short dark blond hair and sighed.

"It means I don't particularly like women. That is to say, I have nothing against them, but I don't find them attractive. This isn't going to work at all."

Hermione laughed mirthlessly. "You think they care? You think they care about happiness, or matching personalities, or even sexual preferences?" She shook her head. "Of course not, because if they did, this bloody law, enforcing monogamous heteronormativity and reproduction on people who may very well be inclined to neither, would never have been created in the first place." She paused, then continued, in a kinder voice, "The reason I think this could work is because we both don't want it. You're gay. Marrying a woman is the last thing on your agenda, yet you will be forced to do so. I don't want to get married at all. I never wanted a husband, I'm fine on my own. I've been thinking about children, that's true, but… well, I never considered it seriously. So, you see, this could be the perfect solution for both of us. It could be a marriage of convenience. Just to get the paperwork done. I don't need your money, I have enough of my own. Nobody ever said anything about being faithful or some such rot. You can see other people, have any relationships you want, and I can do the same. I think we can have a cordial relationship, cordial enough to raise any children in a not too dysfunctional environment. What do you say?"

Theodore stared off into the corridor. It made sense. In some weird and twisted way, it made sense.

"Children? I never thought I would have children. I'd made my peace with that, you know," he said softly. Hermione squeezed his hand in sympathy. Then he cleared his throat and shook himself out of his confused daze.

"We'll live at Nott Manor. There's enough space for both of us to live completely different lives and we might never even see each other unless we make an appointment for dinner. And I'm not getting rid of my house elves."

Hermione shrugged. "I certainly wasn't planning to spend my days cooking and cleaning that draughty old Manor for you. But if you mistreat them I will free them."

"Only idiots mistreat their house elves. And Nott Manor isn't draughty at all."

"We'll see. I'll need an office and a bedroom. We will have separate bedrooms, of course."

"My dear, I can give you a whole floor to yourself, library included. But what about…" Theodore motioned between them with a suddenly awkward look on his face. "Creating children?"

Hermione grinned. "Don't worry about that. We'll face that challenge when we're ready for it. I have some ideas."

Theodore slumped in his chair, crossing both his impossibly long legs and arms with the awkward grace of a baby deer.

"I can't believe I'm seriously considering this."

Hermione noticed the flickering of the little lamp announcing the lift was arriving and said, "You better consider it quickly, Nott, because I think we're about to get swamped."

He closed his eyes for a moment, let out a slow and heavy breath and then held out his hand. "It's a deal, then?"

Hermione shook his hand. "It's a deal," she confirmed.

"I'm marrying Hermione Granger," Theodore said in an awed voice. Then he started laughing hysterically, and Hermione, who looked at him in astonishment, couldn't help but join in. They leaned against each other in the throes of laughter, their whole bodies shaking and incapable of saying anything even remotely intelligible. That was how the paparazzi found them when the lift doors finally opened.

* * *

They'd filed the paperwork that day, arranged their pre-nup the next and got married within the week. Ironically that did make them the poster couple for the Ministry's new law, as they were the first to get married since it had been announced, which had made Kingsley's day. He might not get his society wedding, but two of his War Heroes had basically endorsed the law, either by proposing or by getting married, and it was the best possible publicity. That is, until the Nott family lawyer sued the Ministry for the unlawful use of the couple's names and faces and walked away with a hefty sum, pushing the Ministry even further in debt.

Hermione Granger-Nott moved into Nott Manor with an alacrity that surprised even her closest friends - but then the promise of a private library did have its charm. The house was a comfortable Georgian mansion situated in beautifully maintained gardens, not draughty at all, though she wasn't planning to admit that. The house elves were dressed in little black uniforms and made it perfectly clear to her that they wouldn't just take any orders from her, she was to eat with the Master in the dining room - they had better things to do than serve the same meal in two places - and unless she had allergies, she was to eat whatever they dished up.

Harry couldn't stop laughing when she told him about that awkward first evening as husband and wife, how they had gone through dinner and drinks with nothing but polite chit-chat and long, uncomfortable silences. But the house elves had insisted on celebrating the arrival of their new Mistress with a fourteen course dinner, and through fourteen courses they had to sit.

"I take it your first evening as a married woman was not quite as satisfying as my first evening as a married man, then?"

Hermione groaned in response.

"Poor Theodore," Harry said, with a glance towards his living room where their husbands had retreated after dinner, probably to discuss the exact same thing.

"It's just so weird to live in that great house, with house elves bossing me around and having dinner every evening with a man I hardly know, but who is legally my husband. Sometimes I wonder what I was thinking." She shook her head with a forlorn expression.

"You were thinking _How can I annoy Ron the most and make sure I never have to marry him_."

Hermione swatted at Harry when he started laughing again, but then joined in.

"That was pretty much it, actually," she admitted. "He really does bring out the worst in me."

Harry shrugged. "You know I love him dearly, Hermione, but I never understood what you could possibly see in him. I'm sure you and Theodore have much more in common."

"Oh yes," Hermione said airily. "We both like men."

Dinner with Harry and Draco was the highlight of every week - at least one dinner where she didn't need to mind her table manners for fear of getting rapped over the knuckles or poked in the back by snotty house elves who clearly felt she was unfit to take the role of Lady of the House and needed licking into shape. She spent most of her time in the Nott library, trying to ignore the fact that she really had to think of something to do with her life now that she'd resigned from the Ministry by burying herself into Ancient Runes and Magical Theory volumes she never thought she'd get access to.

About a month into their marriage, Hermione and Theodore were sitting down for a quiet lunch - they'd finally convinced the elves to serve them in the conservatory instead of the gloomy dining room - when Harry and Draco stumbled into the room unexpectedly. Their clothes were dishevelled and sooty from Floo travel and their faces pale and horrified.

Hermione jumped up and vanquished the soot with a swish of her wand before embracing a clearly shaken Harry.

"What's wrong? What happened?" she asked, looking at Draco.

"You didn't see the Prophet this morning?"

Hermione shook her head. Draco whipped out the newspaper and Theo, who had come up to them, snapped it open.

' _ **DEATH EATER ENTRAPS GOLDEN BOY'**_ the headline shouted at them, with a big picture of Draco and Harry leaving the Leaky Cauldron together. The article went on to explain how Draco Malfoy - convicted Death Eater - had lured their innocent, sweet Saviour into marriage to avoid the Marriage Law. He'd convinced the poor, gullible Harry Potter to get married in the Muggle world - a marriage that Wizarding laws were forced to recognise - to make sure the man would never again get out of his clutches.

Theodore read the article aloud and when he was finished, Hermione snorted.

"What a load of tripe," she said, gesturing at the paper. "But you knew it was going to come out sooner or later, Harry. What's got you so upset?"

"They've been sending Howlers and cursed letters to our home all morning. Harry was called into work and Shacklebolt gave him an earful for keeping our marriage under wraps and not showing enough loyalty to the Ministry, ending by asking if we could please annul our marriage as soon as possible and get settled with wife and children as was always expected of us." Draco paused, his grey eyes flashing with fury. The cutlery on the table trembled noisily until Harry turned away from Hermione and took Draco's hand in his to calm him.

"And then the mad crowd attacked us in the Ministry. Tried to curse us, we barely escaped to the nearest Floo. We managed to get home and then came straight here. Nott Manor is much better protected than our flat. We needed to get away."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said. "You're welcome to stay as long as you need, of course. Did you have anything to eat? You can join us, we were just about to get started. Come on, let's sit down."

They sat down at the small table - quickly enlarged to accommodate four people instead of two - and the elves brought two more servings of lunch, grumbling and complaining how inconsiderate it was not to warn them that two guests were joining them, and if they wanted a second serving, they could come to the kitchen and make it themselves.

They grumbled even harder when Theodore requested Firewhiskey, an utterly plebeian habit, drinking Firewhiskey at lunch, but Harry still looked a little peaky and they relented grudgingly.

Several bottles of Firewhiskey, Elf-made wine and Goblin Brandy later, they had arranged themselves comfortably on sofas and squishy armchairs in one of the sitting rooms, with no recollection of how they'd gotten to that room in the first place, and Theodore and Hermione were the only two awake. Harry and Draco had snuggled together and passed out somewhere between the third bottle of Elf-made wine and the second bottle of brandy.

"Lightweights," Theodore said with a not very coordinated dismissive wave.

"Totally," Hermione agreed, wondering why the syllables rolled off her tongue so awkwardly. "But he has a cute arse."

"Which one?" Theodore asked, eyeing their friends.

Hermione tilted her head a little too far and slumped sideways against the armrest.

"Both, actually. But Malfoy 'specially. Susha shame he'sh gay," Hermione slurred after contemplating the answer.

Theodore smiled. "More shame he's taken."

"Snot really my type anyway." Hermione sighed dramatically and, after a failed attempt to sit upright again, made herself lie more comfortably in the chair, her legs dangling over one armrest and her head propped up against the other. She turned her gaze towards Theodore. Or one of the Theodores. How many guys did she marry again?

"Rich and handsome?" they said, all three of them together.

Hermione snorted and closed her eyes to make the room stop spinning. "More like a tall, skinny, blond git."

They were quiet for a while, until Hermione opened her eyes again and squinted at the entwined couple on the sofa.

"That arse though," she sighed. The Theodores laughed.

"Yours is quite nice, too," Hermione continued. "Might as well be married to eye candy, I s'pose.

You're very nice eye candy, Theodore Nott."

Theodore laughed again and swaggered from his chair towards hers with a new bottle of brandy. He sat down on the floor and leaned his head on the opposite armrest from hers.

"Snot so bad being married to you," he said, offering her the bottle. She took a swig, coughed, and drank again.

"Could be so much worse," Hermione agreed. "Like Ronald Weasley."

"Or Ginny Weasley."

"Any Weasley, really. Though Charlie's quite fit."

"That the dragon tamer? Yeah, I remember him."

They both contemplated their slightly blurred memories of Charlie Weasley with his long hair in a ponytail and a tooth in his ear and leather everything sculpted onto his body and sighed in appreciation.

"I could do Charlie," Theodore said.

"We're married. You should share," Hermione said, swatting at him but missing by about a foot.

They caught each others eye again and started giggling.

"This the way it's gonna be? If you bag a really cute one, you'll let me share in the fun as well?"

Hermione grinned. "Threesomes are fun. I'd be up for it."

"Might make the whole pregnancy thing a bit more app… apper... appletising," Theodore murmured, suddenly turning a little green, though whether from the thought of having sex with Hermione to comply with the procreation decree or from having had too much alcohol was unclear.

"Oh, my darling husband," Hermione said, dragging herself upright to pat him on the cheek, which she just about managed without poking his eye out. "You're so cute when you're repulsed by the idea of having sex with me. I'd almost feel insulted. I think you should make it up to me and take me travelling. I'm bored."

"You're bored because you have nothing to do," Theodore pointed out with a clarity that was surprising for one so drunk. "You need a job."

Hermione nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes, but what to do? So many choices. No Ministry job, of course, but other than that…"

"Just do what you always wanted to do and never thought you would get a chance to," Theodore said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. Hermione could only agree with him, and she closed her eyes in the knowledge that the answer would await her when she woke up again.

* * *

Apparently getting arse-over-tits drunk and salivating over Draco's arse together was exactly what Hermione and Theodore needed to get past the awkward first stage of living together as near strangers and change into a more comfortable state of a deep and intimate friendship where two people become perfectly in tune with one another. As time passed, so did their relationship progress, to such a degree that Hermione couldn't even remember why she had never wanted a partner in her life before she married Theo. She hadn't realised quite how lonely she had been until she had to admit to herself that she missed Theo's companionship while he was off for a week in Italy with his newest beau.

"Although I suppose it still isn't what you and Draco have," she said to Harry when he firecalled her from France one evening. "I mean, it's more like having a brother or living with my best friend."

Harry laughed. "It's not as if you're lacking any action, Hermione. I know Theodore complained in his last letter to Draco about you forgetting your silencing charms."

Hermione grinned back. "Goes around, comes around…"

"He'll be back in a few days, though. And I told you you could have come to France for a few days, so don't be petulant now."

Hermione shrugged. "I couldn't take this week off, you know that. We can't all swan off to France to build a new life there."

"Luna did, have you heard? She was forced into an engagement by the Ministry and drove her poor husband-to-be so batty they almost evicted her from the country, just to be rid of her. I'm still not sure if she did it on purpose or not. But she's off to South America again, chasing some weird, nonexistent animal."

Hermione laughed. "Good old Luna."

"Draco's calling, I need to go. Do promise you'll visit soon, though, please?"

Hermione made her promise and Harry's head disappeared from the flames, only to be replaced by Draco's.

"And send us some more of that clotted cream. The food here is good, but that is one thing they are sorely lacking. See you, Granger!"

The flames died and Hermione was alone. Until a house elf popped into the room and demanded she go up to dress for dinner, because they didn't put all that trouble into cooking, for her to appear less than appropriately dressed for the occasion, even if she did eat alone.

* * *

"Here's your coffee," Theodore said when Hermione hurried past him towards the Floo room.

"You're a darling." Hermione accepted the cup and took a fortifying sip.

"Will you be home for dinner?"

"No, I have an interview scheduled at seven, so you have the house to yourself tonight. Maybe you can have whossname over? The tall Italian guy?" She shifted a stack of papers to the other arm and placed the cup on a side table, precariously close to the edge, hopping in place to fiddle with her shoe strap. Theodore quickly pushed her into a seat and adjusted the shoes for her.

"Amedeo? Haven't seen him for a while."

"Shame. He was rather easy on the eye." Hermione checked her schedule and wiggled her feet.

Theodore helped her get up, pressed the coffee cup in her hands again and walked her to the Floo room.

"Apparently my wife walking in on us was a bit of a turn-off."

"Really? I thought it was rather the opposite."

"You minx. Get your voyeuristic arse to work and don't come back before midnight."

She grinned.

"Have fun!"

Theodore grinned back.

"Oh, I will."

* * *

"We've been married for over a year now," Hermione said one morning. "Do you think we're ready for children?"

Theodore spat out his coffee and promptly turned a sickly shade of green.

"Wha- Why?"

"Work seems settled, my body's ready and at its most fertile today, seemed as good a day as any to start. But if you want to wait another month…" Hermione shrugged and turned back to her newspaper, the Wizarding Chronicle. She knew exactly what all the articles said, as she was owner and Editor in Chief of the only independent British Wizarding news outlet. The weekly paper had been an instant success - possibly because Hermione used all her inside knowledge to bring the Ministry's shadier sides to light, and people did love a good scandal. Shacklebolt had managed to hold on to his seat, but only just. She still had a few aces up her sleeve, though. It was only a matter of time.

Theodore looked at his wife with a mixture of dread and despair. He did want children. Now that he knew he had a chance to have kids of his own, with his aristocratic nose or piercing blue eyes or dark blond hair… But nothing about the idea of having sex with Hermione sounded at all appealing. He couldn't see his way out of that.

"Fine," he said with all the air of a martyr about to be beheaded, his eyes screwed shut and his cheeks dark red with embarrassment. "Whenever you're ready." He could always close his eyes and think of Charles, couldn't he? A dull thud made him open his eyes again and he stared at a small jar Hermione had placed in front of him. She smirked.

"Well, off you go, then, husband dearest. Fill it up and put a stasis charm on it. I have an appointment at the hospital in two hours."

Theodore's eyes flicked from the jar to Hermione and back again.

"But… What… How…"

"Go and jack off somewhere, fill up the jar and hand it back to me," she said slowly.

"I don't understand… Don't we have to… I mean… Sex?"

Hermione laughed. "Oh honey, I'm so sorry, but I really, really don't want to have sex with you.

You just fill the jar, I'll take it to the hospital and they'll make sure it gets where it needs to be. I'll be pregnant without you even touching me."

Theodore stared at the jar in wonder. Then his eyes moved to her abdomen, and the colour on his cheeks deepened.

"Seriously? We don't need to have sex?"

Hermione sat down again and sighed. "Surely I explained this to you? Muggles have a way of helping couples with fertility issues. All I need is your sperm. I promise. So off you go, dig out your PlayWizard magazines and produce some quality swimmers so that this time next month I'm well and truly pregnant." She crossed her arms and leaned back, staring pointedly at the jar.

"This is a Muggle thing? Are you sure it's safe?" Theodore asked. His hand was already inching towards it.

"It'll be fine, Theodore. I promise. Now please stop wasting time, I only have an hour and a half left now and I need to travel the Muggle way."

Theodore got up and took the jar from the table. It was incredibly awkward walking out of the conservatory and leaving Hermione behind, while they both knew what he'd be doing not even five minutes later in the privacy of his own rooms. He paused at the door, but didn't turn back.

"Can I come with you?"

Hermione spluttered and coughed through the sip of coffee that had gone down the wrong way.

"You want to come to a Muggle hospital?"

Theodore shrugged, still staring out at the hallway.

"It seems right," he mumbled.

Hermione walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You really want to accompany me?"

Theodore nodded. "It just seems right," he repeated. "It's the conception of our first child. I feel like I should be there. We're in this together, Hermione. Now that I know we don't actually have to… Well, I want to be a good father. And I think that starts with being right with you, every step of the way."

She hugged him from behind, a little awkwardly because he was about a head taller than she was, and kissed his cheek.

"I can already see you'll be a brilliant father," she said, squeezing him a little tighter before she let go again. Then she pushed him out the door. "Hurry up now, husband dear. I'll get the car out. Don't forget that stasis charm!"

* * *

"I'm horny," Hermione said in a whiny voice.

Theodore looked up from his book.

"I did not need to know that," he replied.

"I don't know why you're being snippy. _I_ can't go out and get drunk and shag a stranger when I feel like it."

Theodore tried to suppress a smile. "You could. I'm sure there are men who…"

"Don't you finish that sentence, Theodore Nott! I will not be some creep's fetish come to life."

Hermione sighed and squirmed uncomfortably on the sofa. This new, expanding body was very, very strange. She kept bumping into things because she wasn't used to her protruding belly yet. She had to walk differently to avoid back pains and never mind all those cute little heels she had in her closet. Flats from morning till nightfall. She had to pee every five minutes and could hardly keep any food down, even though she really wanted to eat loads and loads and then some. Especially pickled celery sticks and chocolate. Preferably together. And she was horny. So horny.

But she just had to have the bad luck of being married to the one guy who really, really didn't want her.

"Maybe you can invite one of your little friends and I can watch?" she suggested hopefully.

Theodore dropped his book in his lap and stared at her in mock dismay. Then he sighed.

"It's not like that would be anything new."

Hermione had the grace to turn slightly pink.

"That was an accident, I swear. I didn't mean to walk in on you and…" The silence lingered until Theodore supplied the name. "Richard. His name was Richard. We'd been together for about two months then, you know. You might try to remember his name."

Hermione shrugged.

"He wasn't right for you. Why bother filling my head with names I won't have to remember? You'll see when you meet the one, it… Oh…" She trailed off. Her hands went to her stomach and she stared down in wonder.

"It's moving. Our baby, it… Oh gosh, this is amazing!" She looked up at Theodore, her eyes shining brightly and a soft smile on her face. Theodore looked at her and smiled back uncertainly.

"Come over here. Come on, please." Hermione gestured at the seat next to her and he rose from his chair slowly. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. By the time he reached the sofa, Hermione had slumped back with a blissful smile.

"It stopped. But sit here, then you can feel it next time. Talk to the baby, maybe they'll react to your voice."

"Talk to it?" Theodore's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You're pulling my leg, aren't you? This is like Luna and her Nargles."

Hermione grinned at the mention of her friend. Sometimes Hermione wished she'd thought of just moving out of the country to avoid the Marriage Law. But Theodore Nott was a good man, an excellent companion and a supportive husband, so she couldn't really complain. And now this nugget in her womb was wriggling and swimming and kicking her stomach…

She grabbed Theodore's hand and pushed it onto her stomach. Theodore's eyes went wide, first with fear, then with wonder. He smiled incredulously.

"Hello, little one," he said softly. "I'm your father."

* * *

"Theodore Nott, where the hell are… you…" Hermione's voice faltered as her eyes fell on the couple making very creative use of Theodore's desk. Theodore was lying down on his back, his hands tied above his head, and a brunet man, whose neck had turned a dull red at the sound of her voice, was sliding in and out of him at a frantic pace. Well, that's what he had been doing until she spoke and they'd both stiffened in surprise. The brown-haired man didn't turn around, but he grabbed a shirt from the floor and covered Theodore up as he slid out of him.

"What the bloody hell, Hermione? Don't you ever knock?" Theodore panted as he tried to sit up and simultaneously cover himself to spare his modesty. He winced a little as his wrists were unbound and rubbed them gently.

Hermione wanted to speak but a particularly vicious contraction made her groan and lean against the door jamb for support.

"My waters broke. Contractions about every five to six minutes. We have to get to St Mungo's," she said, after it had finally subdued. If pregnancy was inconvenient, labour was plain torture.

"Come on, Theodore, please. Get moving. Our child is about to be born."

Theodore stared at her, then leaned his forehead against a freckled shoulder.

"Shit."

Hermione heard some quiet murmurs and Theodore looked up again, nodding hesitantly.

"

Your timing is awful, Hermione," he grumbled as he quickly threw on some clothes. "Get your bag and the Portkey, I'll be there in a minute."

She narrowed her eyes at the other man, who still hadn't turned around to look at her, and was about to ask a question when she caught Theodore's pleading eyes.

"Hurry up," she said instead of asking who on earth he had caught himself up with this time. She sure didn't recognize him that deliciously muscled behind.

Another contraction soon distracted her from the whispered goodbyes behind her and she waited in the entrance hall for her husband.

This was it. The tiny human being she'd been growing in her womb was going to take its first breath. It was scary and exciting and she couldn't wait and she wished she'd had more time to prepare. Theodore grabbed her elbow and her bag.

"Ready?"

"Not really, but our child isn't inclined to wait," Hermione said.

Another strong contraction made her clench Theodore's hand so tightly he was certain she'd broken some bones. As soon as the pain passed, they activated the Portkey to St Mungo's.

They were taken into the maternity ward immediately and a mediwitch came in to check her progress.

"First time, is it?" she asked cheerfully, just as Hermione cursed her way through another particularly nasty contraction. "Nothing to worry about, Mrs. Nott. Let's get you comfortable on the bed and I'll check on your progress."

Theodore swiveled around on his heel as soon as Hermione lay down, her clothes transfigured into hospital robes, and the mediwitch pushed her legs open to see how far she'd opened. He studied the wall with an attention it surely had never received before while the mediwitch behind him continued in her irritatingly cheerful voice, "Yes, well timed, Mrs. Nott. You are about halfway there. Just get comfortable, concentrate on your breathing. I can't give you pain relief yet because the Healer should check both you and the baby first. She'll be along shortly. Walking around may help with the contractions. Now, if you need anything, or if the contractions are longer than one minute and begin to succeed faster, please ring the bell and we'll be here right away to assist you. I'll see you later, Mrs Nott, Mr. Nott." She gave him a curious glance but smiled anyway and left the room.

Theodore turned around again just in time to see Hermione summon a book - of course she'd packed a book - and settle in the bed. His breath released in a sigh of relief. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all.

* * *

He was wrong, of course. Five hours later she still hadn't had the baby, though the contractions were coming hard and long and fast, she'd broken two of his fingers and she kept swearing at him like a Jarvey, threatening to cut off his favourite appendage if he ever put her through something like this again. Pointing out that his appendage really hadn't had much to do with her current situation didn't help the situation and he was kicked out of the room.

Harry and Draco were waiting for him in the corridor.

"So, she finally kicked you out?" Draco asked. Theodore nodded miserably as Draco turned to

Harry and held out his hand. "Told you! You owe me a Galleon."

Harry searched in his pockets for a Galleon, which he plonked into Draco's hand.

"So how's she doing?" he asked, looking at Theodore. "Apart from screaming like a Banshee?"

"In pain," Theodore said. "Apparently she isn't making the progress they want her to make. This could be a very long night."

"You think she'd want to see me?"

Theodore shrugged. "Worth a shot. I've been told to leave but, well, you're her oldest friend, so… Go right ahead."

Draco and Theodore slumped in the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting area.

"So is this what it's going to be like?" Draco asked. "Waiting in the corridor while Luna gives birth to our first child?"

"Probably," Theodore said. " Although, knowing Luna, she might very well want both of you around every step of the way."

Draco chuckled.

"So how is life in France?"

"Really, chitchat, at this time?" Draco grinned at his friend and then started explaining how moving to France was the best decision they'd ever made, and when Luna had offered to carry their children, they'd accepted immediately. Theodore stopped listening after the first five seconds, his mind fixed on the baby who would be coming into their family any time now. He was about to be a father. He was about to hold his firstborn child. He was about to become responsible for the happiness and safety of a dependent little creature that couldn't say or do anything. He was about to embark on the most important journey of his life and he was scared shitless.

"What if I fail," he whispered to himself, but Draco had heard him anyway. He put an arm around

Theodore's shoulders and pulled him a little closer.

"Look," he said, "we neither of us had the best examples when it comes to fatherhood. I mean, I'm sure our fathers loved us in their way, but their life choices didn't really contribute to our health and happiness. But that doesn't mean we'll fail. In fact, I'm pretty sure this will mean that we're both going to be excellent fathers, because we'll never place some idiotic psychopath's ambitions ahead of the safety of our families."

Theodore nodded hesitantly, clearly unconvinced.

"And you're not alone in this, Theodore. You have Hermione by your side, and she'll never let you fail. Failure is simply not in her dictionary. She'll support you when you need it, she'll be with you every step of the way, no matter how long you stay married. Seriously, marrying that woman was the worst mistake you ever made, you'll never get rid of her!"

Theodore seemed to relax a little and even almost smiled.

Harry hurried out of the room just as a number of Healers and Mediwitches made their way into it.

"This is it, Nott, you have to go in."

Theodore stood up shakily and stared at the door behind which his wife was about to give birth to their first child. Draco pushed him closer.

"Remember," he said in Theodore's ear, "Remember that she'll be with you for this, she'll be there whenever you need her and even when you don't. But she needs _you_ to be there now. Go help her put your firstborn child onto this earth. You can panic later."

And with a last nod, he entered the room and took his place at Hermione's side.

When he finally held his son in his arms, he didn't feel any panic at all, only overwhelming, all-encompassing love and wonder. He sat down on the edge of Hermione's bed and leaned against her shoulder as the baby snuggled and slept in his arms. She was tired, so tired, but she couldn't sleep just yet. She couldn't stop staring at the smattering of dark hair on his head, the tiny, tiny fingers, his cute little nose and those pouting lips.

"He's perfect," she said, her head resting on Theodore's shoulder. "We made this perfect human being by ourselves. I never knew what a miracle this really was."

Theodore squeezed her hand in agreement.

"Hello, Nicolas Granger-Nott. Welcome to our family."

* * *

"Nicolas Harry Granger-Nott, you put that down this instant or there will be hell to pay," Hermione yelled as her son ran around the living room holding a beautifully wrapped present high above his head where his sisters couldn't reach it.

The three children stopped in their tracks and turned to look at their mother with a mixture of innocent and contrite expressions.

"You know we don't touch those presents until Boxing Day," she admonished as she levitated the present back to the pile. "Now, get out of here, find your father and annoy him for a bit."

"But Mum, he's in his office with Oliver and the door won't open," Calla whined. Hermione managed to keep her face neutral but inwardly she rolled her eyes.

"Go to the library then, or your playroom. I don't want to hear any of you until dinner time. I need to get these rooms decorated before Harry and Draco arrive."

"Are they bringing Scorpius and James?" Nicolas asked, his voice barely containing his excitement.

"Yes, of course they are. They wouldn't celebrate Christmas with us without their sons! Now shoo. I need to finish the dining room."

"And Aunt Luna? Is she coming?" Calla asked with wide blue eyes.

"If she makes it to the Portkey in time. Why are you still here?"

Nicolas and Calla ran out, their footsteps and laughter echoing throughout the house.

Hermione turned to her youngest daughter.

"And what about you, Miss Selene?"

Selene smiled the heart-melting smile she'd inherited from her father.

"Can I help you, Mummy? I like decorating."

Hermione smiled back. She never could say no to her youngest daughter. She held out her hand and they went into the dining room together, where Selene decorated the table in green and red and Hermione levitated the wall decorations while listening to her daughter's incessant chatter.

She had just sent Selene off to wash her hands before dinner when someone walked up to her from behind and put his arms around her shoulders.

"Well done, my darling ex-wife," Theodore murmured in her ear.

"Thank you. It's a little strange now that we're not married any more." She turned around and threw her arms around him. They stood hugging each other for a while, before they both let go with an almost embarrassed smile. They never had become very physical with each other and even hugging was sometimes still awkward.

"I know," Theodore said. "It's been a wild ten years. But in a way nothing really changed. We always had separate bedrooms, we always lived separate lives. We'll always be our children's parents, together. We're a great team, Hermione, and we always will be."

"Nick will be off to Hogwarts next September, can you imagine?"

"It seems only yesterday I held him for the first time. I was so scared, right before he was born, but then I held him and everything seemed to fall into place."

They were silent for a while, remembering the first moment their menace of a son had entered their lives. A rumbling noise like a herd of elephants descending the stairs signalled the arrival of their brood and brought them out of their memories.

"We did alright together, didn't we?"

Theodore smiled at the mother of his children, his best friend and confidante, the only woman he would ever even remotely love, as platonic as that love would always be.

Hermione smiled back.

"Yeah, we did. I'm glad I chose you all those years ago, Theodore Nott. I couldn't have wished for a better husband."

"Nor I for a better wife."

* * *

 **Review Preference: Any**

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	11. Mine

**Wordsmiths & Betas Marriage Law One Shot Writing Competition**

\- Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. You will find this information at the bottom of each entry. Thank you for reading!

 **Title: Mine**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Romance, Angst**

 **Pairing: Draco Malfoy / Harry Potter, Ron Weasley / Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom / Ginny Weasley**

 **Triggers: None**

 **Warnings: Slash**

 **Disclaimer:** All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the authors represented here are profiting from these stories.

* * *

 **Mine**

* * *

Harry couldn't fucking think straight with Draco's perfect mouth about him. His fists clenched sheets, and his hips thrust forward, wanting _more, fuck, more_ of the wet slick heat of Draco's tongue as it wrapped around him. "Please," he moaned as his mind reeled around, struggling to focus on one thought. He no longer cared that he was supposed to be meeting with Kingsley in ten minutes. He tried to tell Draco as he had pushed him down on the bed, to insist that he couldn't be late again as he bit his way up Harry's thigh, but there was no point. The blonde man hadn't fucking listened, because he never bloody listened. He did whatever he liked, and if Harry didn't love it so damn much, he would have been very annoyed.

"Unh…" he let out an incredibly unbecoming noise as Draco's hand joined his mouth, pulling at him with quick strokes that timed perfectly with his mouth bobbing up and down on him. Harry made the stupid mistake of looking down at the perfect sight below. Draco's eyes locked on his own as he smirked around the rigid hardness in his mouth, his lips wet and slick as they worked. It was no good. Harry groaned and fell back against the pillow. He felt his pleasure peak and ripple throughout his body as he spilled into Draco's mouth.

"You fucking wanker," he insisted, as Draco kissed his way up his glistening chest.

"I didn't hear you complaining," Draco insisted before he kissed Harry hard on the mouth.

"I told you in the bloody shower, I needed to go." Harry shoved him back, pushing hard on his chest, and Draco laughed. They both knew his anger wasn't real. It could never be real, not about this.

"I didn't think it was fair," the blonde man explained. He stretched out on Harry's bed, his naked body tempting Harry back as he tried to locate his clothes for the second time that morning. "You were so thorough in there. I was simply returning the favor."

"You could have returned the favor after I got home from work," Harry insisted. He'd found his trousers and was fumbling with the zipper on them.

"I can't tonight. My parents are having me for dinner," Draco said, all humor lost from his voice.

"Oh," Harry said dumbly. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy remained a mystery to him, one that he was never quite sure he would solve.

"Do you want me to come over after?" Draco asked as he watched Harry pull the sleeves of his shirt on.

"Of course," Harry said, beginning to close buttons. It had been eight months. Eight months since they had been drunk at Ginny's wedding, and Harry had decided to take a risk that had paid off with dividends.

Ginny had known about Harry. She was the first one to figure it out. After the war, they had dated for nearly a year before they had tried to have sex, and it was wrong. Everything about it didn't make sense. It was hard, and weird, and neither of them were really satisfied after. She'd whispered it to him while they were still wrapped around each other in the bed, her head on his shoulder. She hadn't even sounded surprised when he had confirmed what she suspected. He hadn't been sure before, but after their failed attempt at making love, there was no more denying it. He loved Ginny, he always would, but she had never made him feel in that entire year the way Draco could make him feel in a single minute.

Ginny had started seeing Neville not long after they had broken up, and three years later, she married him. Neville, Hermione, and Draco had all completed their eighth year at Hogwarts together. Hermione and Neville were there by choice, while Draco's presence had been mandated by the Wizengamot in the terms of his parole. Harry wasn't entirely sure what had happened to the three of them that year, but somehow at the end of it, Draco was no longer an enemy. Hermione and Neville had began inviting him to small gatherings which he, surprisingly, had attended. He had slowly, hesitantly, over the last three years formed tenuous friendships with each of them, even Ron, though that one had taken longer than the others.

Harry would never admit it to anyone, but the pull towards Draco had surfaced in those fumbling moments when they were trying to get to know each other again. There were so many times when he was sure that Hermione was crazy, and Draco Malfoy could not possibly be redeemed, but he was proven wrong again and again. As they fought their way through forgiveness and patience, a slow burn of attraction began without him realizing it. By the time the wedding had come around, Draco was the star of nearly all of his early morning shower fantasies. These fantasies were fueled by the fact that Draco showed a serious lack of interest in women and had not dated since they had left Hogwarts.

Ginny and Neville had seated Draco with Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the wedding. Ron and Hermione had spent the evening dancing, talking to friends, and being in love. They had been happily dating since the war, and neither one of them seemed to be in a hurry to settle down. In fact, Neville was the first person from their year at Hogwarts that any of them knew to have married. Harry had spent the evening getting shitfaced with Draco. They had left the wedding late, both of them stumbling to the Floo. They were supposed to go their separate ways, but Draco's arm was around his shoulder, and Harry was overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne. It drove Harry crazy. Too many times, he had closed his eyes and imagined that scent surrounding him as Draco was naked above him. In that moment, outside the Floo, he made a split second decision. They were both so drunk - both so far gone - that Harry knew he could play it off later if it went badly. He wasn't sure that he would ever get this chance again to find out if the attraction was mutual with the aid of champagne and firewhisky to blame in the aftermath.

Harry had turned his head to Draco's. The other man was saying something crass about what Neville was going to be doing to Ginny tonight, and Harry had spun his body in front of him. Draco's arm followed, pulling him closer, the move entirely unconscious, to his surprise. There was a single moment where Harry saw the shock on Draco's face, and then their lips were touching, and he lost all sense of anything beyond them. Draco stumbled forward until Harry's back hit hard stone, and then his lips were moving against Harry's. The heat and urgency that followed was so much more than Harry's fairly inexperienced mind had ever imagined. That first kiss had tasted strongly of frosting and firewhisky, and Harry could still remember the way Draco's fingers had dug into his arm as if he needed Harry to hold him to the earth. Harry had been lost in him, in the sensation of his mouth and the feel of him hardening against his leg, when Draco had pulled back just enough to ask, "Your place?"

Now, they were nearly living together. Draco kept the flat he had bought after he had left Hogwarts, of course, but he stayed at Harry's more often than not, and they avoided discussions of where this was going, or what they were doing. Draco had made it clear that his parents would not be okay with their relationship. It wasn't that the Malfoys would necessarily care that Harry was a man, or that he was Harry, but it was imperative to them that Draco continue on the Malfoy bloodline. Draco carrying on a relationship with another man didn't fit into that plan. The one and only time Harry had brought up the idea of going public, Draco made a point of ending the conversation quickly. Their friends knew. Harry was sure they did, but not one of them had ever mentioned it. It was as if they had all come to some silent agreement that the relationship brewing between Harry and Draco was off limits until one of the two involved parties brought it up.

Having finished dressing, Harry grabbed his abandoned robes and moved over to kiss Draco again. "See you tonight," he told him and reached for his wand on the table next to the bed before he pushed it into his pocket.

"Love you," Draco replied. As Harry left the room, he finally moved to get out of bed.

XXX

Harry arrived late to his appointment, of course. Kingsley's assistant glared at him over half moon glasses. The woman reminded him eerily of Minerva McGonagall, and he was always struck with the impression that she may attempt to give him detention.

"Auror Potter, the Minister is waiting for you," she told him, her mouth tight even as she spoke.

"Yes, so sorry," Harry said, walking swiftly past her and into the office before closing the door.

Kingsley was sitting behind the Minister's desk. He appeared haggard and worn as he looked up from a stack of files. He smiled wearily. "Harry."

"Morning, Minister. Sorry I'm a bit late," Harry apologized as he tried not to let his thoughts dwell on the reason he had been running behind.

"No trouble. I had plenty to do while I waited. Have a seat." Harry crossed the room and fell into one of the two chairs in front of the Minister's desk. "So, what did you need to talk to me about."

"Well, I was rather hoping you might do me a favor, actually," Kingsley told him, his expression sheepish. The older man was not himself today, that much was clear. Kingsley was usually firm and confident.

"Okay," Harry replied, uneasy. He didn't like the way Kingsley was shuffling through the papers on his desk, as if searching for something to distract him from the favor he was going to ask.

"There is an old law we have been considering resurrecting for a while now, and we were hoping you might be of some assistance."

"Okay," Harry said, growing more unsure with each moment. This was beginning to remind him of conversations with past Ministers that he would just as soon forget.

"It's highly unusual. I hope that you will hear me out before you decide."

"Yes, of course."

"We've been experiencing some population issues in recent years." He met Harry's eyes, and the younger man saw the seriousness of his words in the deep concern that stared openly back at him. "Minerva is owling me, more and more urgently, that we need to do something about it."

"Okay." Harry was unsure what role he could have in helping with population issues. He wasn't even sure exactly what population issues entailed.

"The recent war didn't help. Marriage rates are lower than they have been in decades, but the problem really has roots in the first war. People stopped having as many children and there have been far fewer marriages than we have seen in past generations, and the casualties, well, we never really recovered," Kingsley explained.

"So, what do we do?" Harry asked. Under normal circumstances, he would be eager to help, but the Minister's odd behavior had him on edge.

"Like I said, there is an old law. It hasn't been used in over a hundred years."

"What is it?"

"It gives the Ministry the power to …" Kingsley sighed deeply, looked down at his work again, and then back up at Harry. "Gives us the power to mandate marriages."

"What?" Harry asked, his expression blank, his mind reeling, trying to understand how such a thing could be possible.

"It requires that any witch or wizard, of a certain age enter into a binding marriage." Kingsley watched him closely as he spoke.

"That's ludicrous," Harry spat.

"I know it seems desperate, but we've no other options. Less than twenty students are going to be eligible for Hogwarts from this year."

"Less than twenty?" Harry asked, suddenly horrified. He had known numbers were down. He did read the Prophet. There had been mentions of the issue, but no one had really thought it was a serious problem.

"We have nineteen on the list. Usually one to three names will disappear by the time they are eleven. Things happen." Kingsley told him. Harry tried not to think about what _things_ meant.

"Well," Harry began, trying to recover from his shock. "It could just be a bad year," he insisted. He was still not ready to admit that such a drastic move would be necessary.

"The numbers have been dwindling at a rapid rate. We expect that it will just continue to lesson if we do not intercede. The law has conditions about children-"

"Intercede? These are people's lives. You can't control them this way. Children are not commodities." Harry was practically shouting now, and Kingsley had the good sense to look ashamed.

"We can," Kingsley informed him. "Each eligible person will be given the choice to marry whoever they like, or we have a spell-"

"A spell? How can a spell determine the person you should spend your entire life with?" Harry demanded.

"It works. I swear to you, Harry," Kingsley pleaded, clearly trying to make him understand. "It's actually quite successful at determining good pairings for bearing children."

"You have a spell that determines the best person for someone to breed with? And you want me involved in this?" Harry asked, suddenly remembering why he was here. He had a sick feeling in his stomach that he knew exactly what the Minister was after.

"I want you to be our first match," Kingsley explained as if he was asking Harry to do something completely logical and ordinary.

"No," Harry said firmly.

"I know this is a shock, but if you would just let us do the spell-"

"No," Harry said again. "I'm already with someone." His mind began to race as he tried to determine what in the world would happen with him and Draco if this actually happened. How would they survive being married off to other people? To women? Would the Minister really try to separate them if he knew? Surely not. Kingsley was a good man, nearly a friend. Harry had been pleased with his leadership as Minister for Magic, at least, before today.

"Well, then, that would make it easier." Kingsley said, visibly relieved. "As long as she agrees, of course."

" _He_ isn't a woman, Kingsley," Harry said flatly and watched the Minister's eyes grow wide as he processed what Harry was telling him.

"Oh. I-I had no idea," the Minister sputtered, attempting to collect himself.

"I know," Harry told him. "No one does."

"Well." Harry could nearly see the thoughts spinning in Kingsley's brain. "Surely we could make this work out some how. Who is it?"

"Who is my boyfriend?" Harry asked, his anger boiling once again. How in the world could they make this work out some how? He was fairly sure that he and Draco would still not be able to have any children, marriage law or not, and any other solution was not going to be working it out.

"Yes," Kingsley confirmed.

"I'm not telling you that," Harry insisted.

"Look, Harry, we could really -"

"No. This is beyond bloody fucked up, Kingsley." Harry still couldn't really believe that the Minister was serious about this law, or that he had just told the Minister he was dating a man, and, despite this hiccup in the plan, he was still intent on finding some way to make Harry the marriage law poster child.

"If you do this, I will exempt him from marrying," Kingsley told Harry, his tone desperate.

"What?" Harry asked, uncertain that he was understanding and shocked that, if he _was_ understanding, Draco's freedom was being offered as some sort of consolation prize for behaving. This entire meeting seemed like a nightmare. He wished that Draco would wake him as he always did with a hand on his chest and lips to his ear, whispering that he was safe. The nightmares still happened more than he liked, but it was bearable now with Draco there when he awoke. It hurt less than it had in the years before when he would wake in a sweat, alone and terrified.

"Look, Harry, this plan has already very quietly made it through the Wizengamot. This law is getting resurrected. It's happening." Kingsley sounded sorry for what he was saying, but Harry didn't care how sorry the man was at the moment. This request went beyond anything even Fudge or Scrimgeour had asked of him. "If you play along, let us match you, I will pardon your boyfriend. I will make sure he doesn't have to marry. The two of you can continue to-"

Harry stood quickly, causing the chair to slam down to the ground with a loud bang. "Continue to hide and live in secret for the rest of my life? No. Not for you. Not for anyone." Harry spun, his steps deliberate as he headed for the door and ignored Kingsley calling him back.

XXX

"Can they do this?" Harry asked, still fuming. Hermione was staring back at him, her jaw open, her eyes blazed, mirroring the inferno of injustice that he felt in his own stomach.

"Of course not!" Hermione snapped loudly, as if it was Harry that had suggested that they return to the practice of forcing people to marry each other to breed more magical children for Hogwarts to teach. "What the hell kind of …"

"Have you ever heard of this before?" Harry asked as she trailed off, shaking her head.

"Yes, I have," she said, disgust laced her words. "I've come across it a few times in research." She pulled her bottom lip in with her teeth as she stared at her office window, searching for something Harry couldn't see. A few minutes later, she breathed out a heavy sigh and returned her eyes to his. "Harry, this law hasn't been enforced for over a hundred years."

"So, you think we can fight it?" he asked as hope began to bubbled under the anger.

"We can try. This is a gross abuse of power. They can't honestly think everyone is going to be okay with this?" she asked him, sounding desperate. He wasn't sure what she wanted. Perhaps she thought that he would suddenly tell her that he was just kidding, that the meeting he had just finished with the Minister was an elaborate joke. He wished that it was.

"That is why they need me to tell them all to get on with it and throw their freedom down the drain," he agreed.

"Haven't you given them enough? Merlin." Hermione drummed her fingers against the top of her desk.

"Apparently not." Harry frowned back at her.

"Have you talked to Draco about this?" she asked, avoiding his eyes. It was the first time she had given him any sort of open indication that she knew there was something more between him and their blonde friend. Normally, he would probably pretend that he didn't know what she was talking about, but the time for pretending and hiding was gone.

"No," Harry told her, "I haven't seen him yet."

"They can't do this to you," Hermione insisted, and he appreciated the indignation in her voice more than he could say.

"I know. I … I can't lose him, Hermione," Harry spoke softly, knowing that he was crossing a line that he and Draco had silently agreed they wouldn't cross anytime soon.

"I know. I know. I mean, it isn't the same, but it isn't like Ron and I haven't talked about marriage, but we aren't ready yet." The look on her face made it clear that Hermione was telling the truth. "And, children. Can you imagine, Harry? Being responsible for another human being? I still want so many things before we even think about children."

Harry shuddered. It wasn't that he had anything against children, but he had just started to figure out how to take care of himself. He had no idea how he would handle being responsible for an entire other life. He wasn't even sure that he had the ability to be a good father. It wasn't as if he had the best role model in Vernon Dursley. "You'll look into it for me?"

"Of course. I'll start right away," she promised.

XXX

Two days later, Harry and Draco were standing in the kitchen, their bodies leaned against opposite counters, both looking tense and frustrated.

"I can't sign my life away to some woman I don't give a bloody shit about," Harry insisted. They were arguing, again. They had been going back and forth about the law nonstop since his meeting with Kingsley. It wasn't that Draco was for it, but it seemed that he wasn't exactly against it either, and that made Harry even more furious.

"You aren't signing your life away," Draco protested. "It's ten years or two children." Kingsley had sent a copy of the law over for Harry, and Draco, to look over. The terms were long and complicated, but it basically boiled down to having two children or ten years of marriage, whichever came first.

"How can you say that? We would never be anything more than this. No, we would be less than this. We would be stolen weekends and hiding for the rest of our lives." Harry motioned around the kitchen with his hand as he spoke. It was their prison, this place. This was where they hid who they really were. Out there, in the real world, they were two bachelors who weren't in any rush to get into anything. In here, they lived their real lives, locked away where no one would ever see them. "Is that what you want?" he asked, his chest tightening as his greatest fear passed through his lips.

"He said this is mandatory. I'm not sure we have any choice," Draco said softly. Harry wanted to believe that Draco was only trying to placate him, or make the best of this situation, but it was hard when he was so bloody calm about it.

"Of course we have a fucking-" He stopped talking as they both heard a knock on the door. "I'll be right back," Harry sighed. He walked quickly through the house, his mind full of thoughts of Draco. He seemed to have taken this whole thing in stride, as just another way the Ministry could control their lives, while Harry had fought to explain that this was unacceptable.

As he reached the door, Harry pulled it open, expecting one of his friends and instead found himself face to face with Kingsley. It was dark, but he could see the Minister's face in the soft light of the street lamps. "Can I talk to you?"

"I don't have anything to say," Harry told him.

"I have an idea," Kingsley said.

Harry felt a hand on the small of his back. It pressed into him gently. "Come in," Draco said.

"I thought this might be the case," Kingsley told them, his eyes full of sorrow as he walked into the house.

"Do you want some tea?" Draco offered as Harry shut the door.

"Now we're giving him tea for ruining our lives," Harry said softly as the trio made their way back to the kitchen.

"I'm trying my best, Harry," Kingsley assured him.

"No. Your best is not this. This is wrong. This is not what I fought for." Harry leaned back against the counter. He watched Draco wave his wand, making the Minister a cup of tea. It landed on the counter beside Kingsley.

"What did you need to talk about, Minister?" Draco asked. He moved to stand next to Harry. His hand moved back to the small of Harry's back. Harry frowned over at him, still angry.

"I have a new offer," Kingsley told them, sipping at the drink.

"Okay," Draco encouraged him to continue as Harry crossed his arms.

"We would find a witch that finds a marriage to you mutually beneficial. The ministry will swear her to secrecy, and the two of you use Muggle medical advances for pregnancies. You and Draco still get to be together." Kingsley's voice was quiet, but not as hesitant as it had been just two days ago.

"In secret." Harry's voice cut through the room. "We still get to be each other's dirty little secret. I can never tell anyone how I feel about him." He felt Draco's hand slide around his side to pull him closer. He simultaneously wanted to be near to his lover and push him away.

"Yes," Kingsley agree. "We will award you a divorce when two children are born or after ten years."

"And Draco?" Harry asked.

"I told you. I will exempt him," the Minister promised.

Draco cleared his throat, and Harry turned to face him. "Instead of the exemption, could you give me the same offer of being able to use Muggle methods for pregnancy?" Draco asked, his voice quiet and steady, his eyes focused on Kingsley, pointedly avoiding Harry.

"What?" Harry demanded, turning towards him.

"Yes," Kingsley said quickly without a moment of consideration. "If Harry agrees to help us, we will make you the same arrangement."

"My parents want me to continue the line," Draco told Harry. "You know that."

Harry slammed his fist against the counter as he shouted, "Fuck your parents!" Draco flinched, but held his ground.

"That's easy for you to say," he told Harry, finally meeting his gaze.

"Because mine are dead, and now they get to take you from me?" Harry hated that Kingsley was across the kitchen, sipping at tea, while he and Draco discussed their lives crumbling around them.

"They aren't taking anything," Draco said quietly. "Nothing will change."

"Exactly. I want things to change, Draco." He had wanted things to change for months, since the first time they had admitted how they really felt. Draco had worked late and Flooed over after Harry was already in bed. He had stripped down to his pants while standing next to the bed and climbed beneath the sheets. His body had lined up perfectly behind Harry's, and their hands found each other. Their fingers locked, and Harry had whispered, "I missed you."

Draco's lips had kissed the tender spot beneath his ear, and he had muttered, "I love you." It had been dark and quiet and entirely unexpected.

Harry had turned, unable to get his eyes on his boyfriend quick enough. "I love you, too." Draco had pulled him down, kissing him softly, and he had been certain in that moment that Draco was it for him. There wasn't going to be anyone else.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, pulling him out of his memories.

"I want you out there," Harry insisted, pointing towards the front door. "I want people to know that you are mine, that I love you."

Draco's face fell. He reached forward, but Harry flinched away from his hand. "That isn't possible. I told you."

"Are you just going to let him live the rest of your life for you? He destroyed you. He did this to you." Harry grabbed Draco's left forearm, his fingers digging deep into the scarred remains of the black tattoo that would never entirely go away.

"He's still my father," Draco said, his voice low and unsteady, yanking his arm back.

"He doesn't deserve one ounce of the respect you give him," Harry fought back, refusing to back down. This was one of those things they never talked about, but it seemed like if the world was going to fall down around them anyway, he might as well get to destroy some of the things he hated about it in the process.

"That isn't true," Draco fumed.

"It is if he can't accept who you really are," Harry countered, "who we are."

"Go. Now," Draco demanded, turning his attention back to Kingsley and his empty cup.

The Minister nodded. "I'll be in touch."

Once he had gone and they heard the front door shut behind him, Draco finally returned his gaze to Harry's. "I have nothing else to offer you, Harry." He moved forward again, his fingers danced tender whispers up Harry's shoulder to his neck before he leaned in to kiss him. Harry greedily responded, pulling him in close as if he could hold him there forever. Even though he was angry, he couldn't really push Draco away knowing that soon these moments may be few and far between. "I love you, but he's my father, and I love him, too," Draco whispered against his mouth.

"Please don't do this, Draco," Harry pleaded, as if they had a choice.

"We have to. This way is better than the alternative. Please don't take away the only good thing I've ever had." His fingers were locked in Harry's hair as their bodies melded together.

"Hermione is still looking into it," Harry told him. "She will find a way around this." Harry could tell from the way Draco's mouth curved down that he had little faith in Hermione finding a way out of this one. He was sure that if the Minister was telling them about it, then it was all but settled, and they had better get on with making the best of it. Harry couldn't accept that. He just couldn't.

XXX

Two weeks later, Hermione was sitting at Harry's kitchen table as tears rolled down her cheeks from bloodshot eyes. "I've looked into everything." Harry knew she hadn't been sleeping, or eating, because Ron had been mental about it at lunch that day. Harry had owled her as soon as he had returned to his office to tell her they needed to talk.

"I know," Harry moved his hand over hers. She hadn't found anything, not a single loophole or weakness in the law.

"This is so wrong," she choked on a sob as her shoulders shook.

"It's okay, Hermione," he moved closer to her, the legs of his chair scratching loudly against the tile floor.

"No, it isn't." She leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder. "They are going to get away with this. They are going to force people to get married and have children."

"I know." Harry tried to comfort her. "I know." Hermione's arms reached around him, and Harry pulled her in tighter as she continued to cry. He held her there for a long while as despair flowed through him. She had been his last hope, and now that was gone. If anyone could fight the Ministry, it was Hermione, but it seemed that this time, there was nothing to be done.

After she had stopped shaking, Hermione pulled back from her best friend to wipe at her face. Harry pulled away strands of her hair that were stuck in wet tear tracks. "Ron says we should just elope. Avoid the mess, not let them use us to get other people to go quietly."

"Like I'm going to, you mean?" he asked. He knew the question wasn't really fair, but he wasn't feeling much of anything right now. He was going to have to get married - to a woman. It was wrong, surely, but he couldn't find the spare empathy to lend Ron and Hermione for being forced to push their wedding up a few years when he would be spending the next several years of his own life pretending that he wasn't counting down the minutes until he could get back to just being with Draco.

"We both know that isn't what you want," Hermione said quietly as she laced their fingers together.

"I don't. Sometimes I feel like Draco is glad that this happened," he admitted, letting the thought escape his mouth for the first time. It had been plaguing him from the moment Draco had asked the Minister if he could have the same offer.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"He gets the pretend life his father wants for him. A wife - children - respectable and proper. Kingsley will probably even find him a pureblood." Harry struggled to find the words for the rest of his thoughts. He didn't want to voice them aloud. Part of him felt to say them would make them all too real. "And, I-I stay in the dark. He doesn't have to admit that … that I …"

"Oh, Harry, Draco loves you. I know he does. I've known for months. Anyone with half a brain sees the way he looks at you," Hermione assured him.

"I don't think he doesn't love me, but what if he doesn't love me enough to ever tell anyone?" Harry asked, the questions stirring a deep ache in his chest.

"I don't think that's true. Give him some time," Hermione urged him.

"I don't have to," Harry told her bitterly. "The Ministry is giving him plenty of time."

XXX

Harry rifled through his drawer and grabbed out a pair of pants. He pulled them on as Draco stared on, watching his every move. They had been at the Ministry late, talking with Kingsley and meeting their future partners. Harry would be marrying Romilda Vane, and Draco had been paired with Astoria Greengrass. Both women seemed oddly pleasant and content with the loveless matches that would result in their husbands continuing to have a relationship behind their backs.

Harry knew Romilda's reasoning for agreeing to the plan. She had been after his public image when he was only sixteen years old and rumored to be the chosen one. Now that the rumors had proven to be true and he was climbing through the Auror department, it seemed that she was all too eager to be Mrs. Potter, even if it was only for a sham of a marriage.

Astoria, on the other hand, had seemed quiet, polite, and kind. She was nothing like the pureblood Slytherin women that Harry had grown up with. Her older sister Daphne and best friend Pansy had always struck him as cruel and vapid, but that didn't seem to be the case with the youngest Greengrass. "Why do you think Astoria is doing this?" Harry asked as he moved towards the bed.

Draco rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as he sighed heavily. "It's a good match for her. Her parents actually tried to arrange something for us a couple years ago. I turned it down."

"You almost had an arranged marriage?" Harry asked, suddenly stunned that this had never come up. He knew he shouldn't be surprised that arranged marriages still existed between the old houses. After all, was that really any different than what the Ministry was doing to them now?

"Not really. I said no immediately. I was fairly confident that I didn't like women by that point, and I was intending to put this moment off as long as possible." Draco turned towards him as he pulled the covers over his body. They naturally moved closer to on another as they had done so many times before.

"So, you always thought this was where you would end up? A loveless marriage to provide children?" Harry asked, the pain this revelation caused welling deep inside of him.

"Yes," Draco shifted, moving his weight over Harry. "I was sure that was where my life was headed." His voice grew steadily softer as his lips moved closer and closer to Harry's. His body began to rock slowly against Harry, driving him mad with each slow shift of his thigh against hard length. "Then you kissed me at the wedding, and that miserable, bleak future shattered." Draco's lips ghosted across Harry's. "You made me feel like, maybe, there might be another option." Shivers of anticipation blossomed on Harry's jaw and neck as Draco breathed raggedly against his throat. "For the first time, I felt like I might actually be able to be happy." Harry felt a lump form in his throat as Draco's words washed over him. His hands moved from the sheet, his fingers lingering just above Draco's skin before he let them fall to his back. "You crashed into me like you always do to everything, with no bloody regard for what is supposed to be, what the proper thing is." Draco's tongue trailed down to his shoulder. "You only care about what is right and good." Draco began to kiss his shoulder and chest lazily as he spoke. "And we are so good and so right, Harry."

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and turned his body until he had the blonde underneath him. He pushed his mouth firmly against Draco's. He couldn't listen to the whispers of his lover tonight. They hurt more than anything ever had. If they were so good and so right, why were they being torn apart? Why was Draco willing to backpedal to that shell of a life he had thought inevitable? It was as if a knife sliced through his skin as these questions lingered in his mind, so Harry sought refuge in bruising kisses instead. Draco seemed to understand what he needed. He dug his nails into Harry's back and slid them down the perfect, hot expanse. Harry hissed as his head rocked back, and Draco's teeth grazed possessively over his neck.

Harry supported his body with one elbow on the bed as he clenched Draco's pants in one hand and pulled them down Draco's thighs. Draco pushed his body up, trying to make the task easier. When they were at his knees, he used his feet to kick them the rest of the way off his legs. Harry moved his mouth to Draco's chest, sucking, biting, licking at skin as he moved down to the hardness of Draco's cock. He took it in his mouth with a familiarity that months of practice had given him. A swirl of his tongue at the head and then down the shaft with a quick, decisive movement. Draco moaned from the pillows, pulling on Harry's hair. "No," he said, his tone reluctant even as he told Harry to stop. "I want to be buried in you."

Harry ignored him for a few more moments, enjoying the feel of Draco's thighs tense at either side of his head, but eventually he pulled away, returning up Draco's body to his mouth to kiss him again. Draco tangled his fingers in Harry's hair, pulling it tightly as he bit Harry's lips and slid his tongue past them. They fought for control, but it was just for show. The moment Harry had taken his mouth from him, he had relinquished the power.

Draco pulled back from Harry. They were both breathing heavily. "On your stomach," he directed. Harry obeyed, clutching the pillow in his fingers as he lay exposed to Draco. He rocked slowly into the sheets, trying to find some release. Draco moved his leg over Harry, straddling his back. He leaned down to bite at Harry's neck before his lips moved up to his ear. "So good," he hissed, his words causing Harry to buck up into him. "So right." Draco ran his hand down Harry's side, causing his skin to pimple in anticipation as he pulled Harry's hips up into the air. "All mine." He whispered a wandless charm, lubricating his hand as he stroked his own length. Harry felt him position his knees, grounding them on either side of his own. His head easily found its goal as Harry pushed back eagerly towards Draco. Draco clutched Harry's hip with his free hand, attempting to hold him in place. "Mine," Draco said again, his tone firm as he buried his length inside of Harry with a long, slow push.

Harry groaned as he turned to kiss Draco desperately. The kiss was wrong, the angle terrible, but they both needed it, needed to feel each other in every way they could. Everything was falling down around them, but this, the way they felt about each other, was still solid. Words seemed to only lead to circular arguments, pulling Harry down into doubt and frustration when he desperately needed to be reassured and comforted. Draco's fingers on his hips, his teeth pulling at his lip, his cock pushing into him, all served to remind him that he was loved and wanted by this man, no matter what was happening outside the walls of this room.

As Draco continued sliding in and out of him in a perfect rhythm, Harry's head fell forward against the pillow, the knuckles of one hand turned white as he clenched the edge of the mattress. Draco's mouth moved to the base of Harry's neck, kissing him with each thrust. Harry rocked back into Draco, focusing on the sensation of being filled as he began to stroke himself in time with Draco.

He felt Draco's grip on his hip tighten as his pace quickened and his breath became heavier against Harry's back. Draco was pulling him back to meet his thrusts now, hard and fast. Harry's ability to think was slipping away as he moved closer and closer to his release. "Harry." He heard Draco behind him, his own pleasure clear in his voice. "Fuck, Harry," Draco moaned his name, drawing out the sound as he came. As Draco's movements began to slow, one hand slid down Harry's hip and around his body to replace Harry's. Harry closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of Draco's fingers around him. He had been so close already that Draco had him moaning through his own orgasm in mere moments.

Harry collapsed to the bed, careful to avoid the mess. Draco fell behind him, reaching for his wand to clean the sheets. Harry gave him a few seconds for the spell, and then he was kissing Draco lazily on the chest. He rested his head against Draco's shoulder as Draco replaced his wand on the bedside table before he pulled Harry closer. Draco fell asleep quickly, but Harry lay there in his arms, listening to the sound of Draco's heart beating inside of his chest as he tried, and failed, to keep thoughts of the law, the meeting earlier that evening, and his future wife from ruining this moment.

XXX

Draco had wanted to be there for support. That was fine. Harry could do this. He could stand there next to Romilda and pretend like he didn't feel dead inside. He had been a puppet before, surely he could do it again. His eyes moved over the crowd of people, their chatter grated on his nerves and threatened to break through the facade that he was attempting to show to the world. He needed to see Draco, so he kept moving through the faces until he found him.

He was against the wall to Harry's left, his arms crossed and his lips drawn thin. Harry could see the small signs of his irritation, but he doubted they were obvious to the other people in the room. Hermione, Ron, Neville, Blaise, and Ginny stood in a group around him, all trying to pretend like they wanted to be here. The Marriage Law had hit the papers three days before. The outrage had been instantaneous. It made Harry proud actually, and he had been second guessing his decision to go through with this all day. He wondered if the anger would be enough to convince the Ministry to retract the enforcement of the law, but he couldn't see why they would change their mind. The population was a problem. Hermione had told him that marriages had already increased. There had been a flood of elopements from people like Ron and Hermione who just hadn't made the commitment yet, but were afraid of being separated.

Harry's eyes fell away from Draco as Romilda grabbed his hand, gently pulling him to two chairs that had been set on the platform for them. She smiled brightly, her eyes full of excitement. He wondered again how anyone could be happy about being forced to marry someone they didn't love. Perhaps, when you did not know what it meant to actually be in love with someone, it was easier to give away the possibility. As they settled into their seats, Kingsley approached the podium. He cleared his throat once as he smoothed his hand down the front of his robes. Harry followed the movement and then took in the man's blank but authoritative expression as he began to speak.

The words didn't matter. Harry vaguely knew he was trying to appease the people, explain to them the importance of the law and the severity of the problem they were faced with, but the crowd seemed uneasy, tense, and unreceptive. It lifted Harry's spirits to see further proof that he wasn't the only one who felt like the Ministry was overstepping and destroying lives again. He felt another rush of guilt. It began in his chest; a sharp pain that flowed quickly out to his extremities. He was putting his name on this, letting them use him again. He was doing it for Draco. It was all for Draco. Draco wanted children to continue his name. He wanted to make his father happy, and fill his role as the Malfoy heir. This was the only way that he could do that. Harry could have continued to fight it, to let the Ministry deal with the backlash themselves, but then he would have been stuck with Romilda for ten long years and there would have been no help from the Ministry in getting her pregnant with their children.

 _Their children._

Sometime in the future, Harry simultaneously hoped it was soon and so far away, this woman sitting beside him was going to have his children. He pulled his slick, sweaty hand free from her grasp and slid it down his trousers as he tried to remind himself to breathe. If he didn't allow them to put him up here on this stage and use him as an example of how the great Harry Potter was doing his part for the Ministry and had been so perfectly matched, they would still force him and Draco to marry without the help and discretion that Kingsley was promising them. The thought of Draco trying to provide the next generation of Malfoys the old fashioned way made him sick.

As he was struggling to control his emotions, there was a murmur from the crowd. At first Harry didn't know what had caused the sudden excitement, but as he followed their eyes he saw him. Draco was walking up onto the stage, his gait determined as his eyes locked on Harry's. An auror grabbed for Draco's arm. Before Harry could even call out to the woman to leave him alone, Draco had brushed her off and continued. She fell quickly in step behind him. Harry could see her mouth moving. He was sure that she was saying something, and he should be able to tell what it was, but he still couldn't seem to hear anything but the heavy thud of his own heart beating in his ears.

Beside him, Romilda reached for his hand again as she stood. Harry stood as well, sure that had been her intention, but he didn't move his eyes from Draco. The Minister had stopped talking behind him. Romilda was squeezing his fingers, but Draco was close enough to touch him now. The blonde man reached out two hands. One gripped his neck and the other his hip. Harry watched him lean in, pure shock racing through his body, and then their lips were touching. Harry felt Romilda's hand slip away from his as the flash of bulbs popping began to blind him even through his closed eyes. Harry wrapped his own arms tightly around Draco, clinging to the man, this man that he loved with everything he was, as they kissed.

Draco's hand slipped up into Harry's hair as the other found the small of his back and pulled him in even tighter. Harry's fingers clenched at robes, moving across the hard muscles that he knew so well. He was suddenly lost in the familiar feel of Draco's lips on his and that same cologne that had consumed him at Ginny and Neville's wedding.

Slowly, as if he was waking up, Harry began to realize that the people around them were trying to get their attention, and he pulled back. Reporters were shouting as the Minister demanded silence. The bulbs continued to flash, their friends smiled and laughed behind Draco's head, while questions flew around him so quickly he couldn't determine which direction they were coming from. "What are you doing?" he asked. His own words were heavy and thick with emotion and disbelief.

"I couldn't do it," Draco told him. "I couldn't let them think you were hers." Draco leaned in one more time to kiss him quickly at the corner of his mouth. "I love you."

"I love you," Harry told him as a smile spread across his lips. It was the first time he had been genuinely happy since that morning before Kingsley had brought the world down on top of him.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, how long has this been going on?" He heard, one of the questions finally shattering through the fog that had begun as soon as he had seen Draco walking towards him.

Draco moved to face the crowd, his arm possessively around Harry's waist. "Nine months," he answered.

"What does your family think of this, Draco?" one voice asked.

"Harry, why were you going to marry Ms. Vane?" another shouted.

"The Ministry asked us to give up our own happiness for the good of our community. I thought I could handle this, but I was wrong. It's true that marriages are down and fewer magical children are being born every year, but I wonder what other options the Ministry considered before resurrecting such an archaic law," Draco answered again. Harry looked over at him, stunned. "I love Harry, and it would destroy me to watch him married to someone else, attempting to have children, and live a life without me in it."

"Now, Mr. Malfoy..." Harry heard the Minister's voice from beside him, but it was cut off by another reporter.

"Minister, were you aware of the relationship between Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter? Did you arrange this marriage despite that fact?" Harry watched as Kingsley's face fell, and he searched for the right words.

"Come on." Draco turned, pulling Harry with him.

XXX

Ten minutes later, Harry shut the door of his home behind him. He turned to face Draco and was immediately pushed back against the wooden frame. Draco's fingers clenched at the fabric of his shirt, pulling it free from his trousers as he explored Harry's mouth with his tongue. His hands moved beneath Harry's shirt to feel the soft heat of his skin against skin. Harry sighed into the kiss as Draco's fingers dug into his sides.

"You're mine. Always," Draco told him, as he moved his mouth down Harry's jaw until he could suck at the tender skin at the base of his neck. "Romilda Fucking Vane can find her own war hero."

Harry laughed at this. "What were you thinking?"

"Actually," Draco pulled back until he could meet Harry's eyes, "everything went precisely as planned." The blonde man was smirking, his demeanor suddenly cocky.

"You planned this?" Harry asked, stunned, and then annoyed and angry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You're a shit liar," Draco told him with a straight face.

"No, I'm not!" Harry argued, but he knew it was possible that Draco was right. He sometimes wasn't the best at controlling himself, or his actions, and he was a terrible liar.

"Yes, you are, and we both know it," Draco insisted.

"But your father …" Harry trailed off, trying not to become suddenly overwhelmed with the implications of what Draco was saying. He had planned this, planned outing them both to the world when he had known that their photo would be taken and plastered all over every paper and magazine in Wizarding Britain. He had planned this knowing that his father would find out about them.

"I will admit, this was not Plan A, or even B, but Hermione and I-"

Harry cut him off, "Wait, you were working with Hermione?"

"Of course I was," Draco told him, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I know these old families and laws better than any of us. I thought we _might_ find something, but there was nothing. It's solid. If they want to force this, even now, they will be able to."

"But, you don't think they will." Harry said, sure that had been the motive behind all of this conspiracy.

"No. The reaction was already bordering on outrage, and we just added a bit of Fiendfyre to the mix," Draco's smirk widened.

"You are evil," Harry told him, but he couldn't help feeling happy. "Kingsley is going to get torn apart over this," he added, not sure how to feel about that.

"I know you like him, but he shouldn't have gone along with this." Draco turned away from Harry and began to move through the house.

Harry followed, a frown on his lips. "You _asked_ him for a damn match of your own. You practically salivated over Astoria Greengrass."

"Well, I needed to play my role convincingly." Draco shrugged as they entered the kitchen.

"Your role? This was our lives! I thought …" Harry lost his steam then, simultaneously ashamed that he had been so sure that Draco wanted to keep him a secret and angry that the other man had guided him to those feelings.

"It's fine, Harry," Draco kissed him softly. "I don't know if I ever would have had the courage to do this if the Ministry hadn't forced my hand. You are … but I … I couldn't ever imagine telling him. He … He's still so broken from the war, and I just thought we could keep on the way we were, but I knew it was killing you. It wasn't fair."

Harry leaned against him, holding him for several long moments until the rush of his Floo startled him back from Draco. Hermione climbed through his fireplace a moment later, a broad smile on her face. She leapt at them, her arms outstretched as she squealed in a very un-Hermione fashion. One arm wrapped around either of their necks and she pulled them into a hug. She released them after several squeezes to kiss Draco on the cheek and then hug him tightly again. "You did it!" she finally shouted.

"What?" Harry asked, lost.

Ron, who Harry had just noticed behind Hermione, said, "The press decided the two of you are a proper love story. Started destroying the Ministry on the spot."

"It's not official, of course," Hermione told them, trying to compose herself, "but, I'm fairly confident they will be backtracking from this whole thing."

"What about the marriages and the children?" Harry asked.

"I'm not sure on that either, but I think having a conversation about it was a start. Ron and I knew that Draco had this planned, and we still eloped," Hermione admitted.

"Realized it was mad not to," Ron gave them a lopsided grin. "Of course I want her forever." Hermione shook her head as if Ron was ridiculous, but she was smiling as a blush creeped up her cheeks.

"I know several other couples married too, and I suspect other will follow suit, even without the law. It won't be forced, but no one wants our magic to die out. People will start having children again. I think the Ministry were overreacting. They have no faith in the community, and were trying to force us to do something that many of us already plan on doing. Now we just might move up the time table," Hermione insisted.

"And you were in on this the whole time?" Harry demanded, suddenly remembering that she had been shattered in his kitchen just weeks ago.

"Draco didn't tell me that he had a back up plan until a week ago," Hermione told him, her mouth suddenly a tense line as she looked pointedly at Draco.

"I couldn't have you finding out," Draco told Harry without a trace of regret on his voice. "You Gryffindors are worse than my mother and her friends. You tell each other everything, as loudly as you can, and at the worst possible moment. It's a miracle you all survived the war in the first place. I only told her so she could not marry Weasley if she didn't really want to."

"What?" Ron snapped, his head moving quickly between Hermione, who was still glaring, and Draco, the focus of her anger.

"Draco," she groaned.

"Well, obviously she married you, mate." Draco clapped a hand to Ron's shoulder. "Now you know she really wanted to."

"I knew she really wanted to before."

"Sure, sure," Draco nodded in agreement. Harry grabbed his hand, pulling him back. Draco started to pull his hand away, and then stopped, staring down at their entwined fingers. He looked up at Ron and Hermione, and Harry watched him smile in realization that they had nothing left to hide. Everyone knew, or would by the following morning, that they were together. Without warning, Draco closed the gap between them and kissed Harry softly, not bothering to care that their friends were watching.

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	12. Painting the Night Sky

**Wordsmiths & Betas Marriage Law One Shot Writing Competition**

\- Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. You will find this information at the bottom of each entry. Thank you for reading!

 **Title: Painting the Night Sky**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Romance**

 **Pairing: Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson**

 **Triggers: None**

 **Warnings: Femslash**

 **Disclaimer:** All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the authors represented here are profiting from these stories.

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 **Painting the Night Sky**

* * *

Hermione swallowed deeply as the wedding ring slid onto her finger and she felt its magic bind into her core. She had always assumed that love was needed to make the binding work, particularly after everything Dumbledore had said about love being the most powerful and oldest magic. But Dumbledore must have been wrong, she acknowledged, as she felt her magic melding with her new spouse's. Because if the spell took their feelings into account, the magical rings would probably catch fire or fly from their fingers, propelled by the anger and hatred crackling between the two.

oOoOoOo

It was all Ron's fault, Hermione thought, shooting what she supposed must now be her former boyfriend a dark look. He was sat in the front row, next to Harry, looking wretched at the thought of her marrying someone else. Actually, it was the Ministry's fault – even Ron couldn't take responsibility for the monumental fuck up that was the Repopulation and Regeneration of The British Wizarding Community Law that was passed earlier that year in the Wizengamot by a slim majority. The Department For Magical Law Enforcement had sent round decrees to all unattached wizards and witches of what they deemed to be marriageable age, explaining that since the first Wizarding War, the numbers of magical people in Great Britain had been in a steady decline that had only sharpened after the second war. Put simply, too many witches and wizards dying, too few having babies and the ministry was going to solve the problem by making all unmarried witches between the ages of eighteen and twenty five get married and have children. Everyone had been furious but even Mr and Mrs Weasley had to agree with the reasoning behind it.

"Don't they think we've already done enough?" Ron had exclaimed, slamming his copy of the decree onto the scarred wood of the Weasleys' kitchen table.

Harry and Ginny just exchanged apologetic glances. They had got married earlier that year, as soon as Ginny had finished her exams and had therefore escaped the fate that Hermione and Ron now suffered. After the war, Hermione had gone back to school with Ginny to finish her N.E. and Harry and Ron had gone to Auror training. Whereas the distance had only served to strengthen the affection between Harry and Ginny, it seemed to stunt Hermione and Ron's budding relationship, so that when Harry and Ron met them in Hogsmeade at the weekends, dressed in their smart Auror robes with silver buttons, Hermione had felt shy and awkward around her boyfriend. It was only now she had graduated that they were making tentative steps towards deciding what direction their relationship was heading. In her more cynical moments, Hermione suspected that they may be better off as friends. It wasn't that there was anything wrong that she could put her finger on, just that she didn't feel the fireworks that the romance novels she had read had assured her would be present.

Hermione was silent, scanning through the lengthy roll of parchment with her name at the top. The others waited, acknowledging her higher ability in this matter. Ron had given up reading his after he had passed the section that said marriages needed to be made within a month of a match being made and consummated within twenty four hours of the marriage.

"Oh don't worry," she laughed bitterly, "You're safe, according to paragraph 34, subsection 12,"

Harry and Ginny peered over Ron's shoulder as he rifled the paper through his hand, squinting at the spidery writing.

"Just tell me," he sighed eventually, unable to locate the point in question.

"Wizards and Witches shall be excluded for the following reasons: Proven Infertility, as subject to testing at St Mungo's; transferrable or potential transferrable disease such as lycanthropy, chronic Spattergoit, or Scrofungulus; homosexuality; dangerous profession such as Auror or Dragon Wrangler. These examples are not exhaustive. If you suspect that you may be exempt from the Marriage Law, fill in the box below with the reason and the DMLE will review your case,"

"Excellent!" Ron cheered, high fiving Harry, "how come Aurors don't have to get married then?"

"Well, they probably think you won't survive long enough to see your children," snapped Hermione, which wiped the smile off Ron and Harry's faces somewhat.

"Well that's Ron off the hook, at least," Ginny said brightly, "fancy going down with Spattergoit Hermione? I think dad's pretty good at the charms now. Either that or you'll have to turn gay. After all, snogging Ron might be enough to turn anyone off men – ow!" she bent under the table to rub her leg where Ron had aimed a sharp kick.

"I'd marry you anyway Hermione, even if I am exempt," Ron's tone was casual but she could see the spark of hope in his eyes.

She squeezed his hand gently, "Thank you, that's sweet but it says here that the Ministry will match us with the spouse they see as the most fit. It says that to avoid possible cultural issues, purebloods will be matched with other purebloods and half bloods and muggle borns matched with each other. Ha! That's how they managed to get the law passed. After all, promising all the rich patriarchs of pureblooded families that seem to make up about two thirds of the Wizengamot that their children will be forced to marry another pureblood must have seemed like a brilliant idea. So it doesn't look like I get the luxury of choice,"

Ron looked downcast, although it wasn't obvious whether that was because his proposal had been dismissed as 'sweet', or at the thought of Hermione being married off to anyone the Ministry fancied.

"They can't just…" he muttered angrily.

"They can, they are and they will," sighed Hermione in response, rereading the document to see if she could find any other loophole.

"Well then Ginny's right! You'll have to say you're a lesbian! And when all this blows over, well then we can think about, you know, you and me. Marriage, or whatever…" he trailed off, the tips of his ears turning red.

As much as Hermione hated the idea, as much as she knew deep down in her bones that any plan that Ron came up with was bound to be terrible, she couldn't think of a better option. She even ran it by Ron's parents and Professor Mcgonagall but none of them could come up with an alternative. So with great trepidation, she wrote 'lesbian' in the same blank space on her parchment that Ron had filled in 'Auror' on his. Just like Ron's, the ink shimmered and disappeared, and a short time later, the word EXEMPT appeared stamped in its place. She smiled and folded the parchment away, intending to forget all about it.

However, her intentions were thwarted when she was summoned to Mafalda Hopkirk, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's office, a few weeks later.

"Hermione, thanks for coming. Please take a seat," the older witch looked haggard and almost dwarfed by the piles of paperwork on her desk. Hermione tucked her robes primly under her and sat in the seat opposite.

"How can I help Mafalda, is this about the Werewolf Equality Bill I submitted last week?"

"I wish it was but if I'm being brutally honest with you, I haven't even had time to look at that. I'm completely overrun with the arrangements for the progress of the marriage law,"

A prickle of fear ran up the back of Hermione's neck but she forced herself to smile sympathetically, "Yes, I imagine that is an absolutely huge undertaking. If there's anything I can do to help, please do let me know,"

"Thank you. I know a brain like yours would be a real asset to my team, and if you ever consider a career away from the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, I'm sure I could find a job for you. But no, this relates to your…exemption," Mafalda steepled her fingers and looked at Hermione over them, "I'm not doing this for fun, Hermione, you do know that don't you? The future of the magical population is in grave danger. We've actually downplayed how serious the problem is to prevent people panicking and emigrating to larger magical communities. But I'm sure I can trust you with the figures," she handed Hermione a graph. Hermione didn't need to read the details to see the alarming downward trajectory the line was on. "Even so, we don't want to make people's lives miserable. We are doing our best to make sympathetic matches where we can, and we wouldn't dream of matching you with a man, we can see how badly that would work, although we did think that you and Ronald Weasley from the Auror department…..still we all know how rumours spread,"

Hermione tried to say something but the lump in her throat prevented her producing any more than something between a cough and a squeak.

"So that's the good news," Malfada placed her hands flat on her desk, as though steeling herself for what was to come, "Unfortunately... Well, perhaps that's the wrong word," she laughed nervously, "The Healers at St Mungo's have been researching a Muggle technique called…now what was it….artificial…"

"Insemination," Hermione finished dully, her stomach full of lead. As was often the way, she was two steps ahead and had guessed what the Head of the DMLE was about to say,

"That's right. Which means, with donor sperm, a lesbian couple can parent children. Of course the healers have been able to advance the technique so the child is made up with DNA from both parents, but it is much the same principle. Which means that you are now able to take part in the plans for the regeneration of the Wizarding Community,"

Hermione suspected that if she looked, the exempt stamp on her parchment would have disappeared. She concentrated on breathing in and out slowly to prevent hysteria overtaking her. No more excuses, no more exemptions. She was going to be married, against her will, to a woman.

"Would people - the Wizengamot - accept that?" she ventured.

"There haven't been any objections raised,"

It was an odd quirk of the wizarding world, Hermione mused, feeling strangely detached from the reality of the situation, that despite the pureblood mania that gripped so many witches and wizards, other prejudices such as racism or homophobia didn't really seem to exist like it did with muggles.

"So who am I to be matched with?" Hermione didn't actually know any lesbian witches and despite the horror of the unfolding situation, she couldn't help but be curious.

"We've matched with a girl of your age, I believe you already know her. I've arranged for her to attend -"

The door banged open and a witch Hermione had hoped never to encounter again stormed in, her face as angry and venomous as Hermione had ever seen it, "I got your Owl and I just want to say that all of this is utter bullshit. Me, married off to some witch I've never even met before? I don't think you know who you're dealing with –" she broke off, noticing Hermione.

"What is she doing here?" the two witches demanded of Mafalda in unison.

Hermione gulped as she stared directly into the furious face of Pansy Parkinson.  
To give Mafalda her credit, she did her best to diffuse the situation as quickly as she could, offering Pansy a seat and some tea, but the Slytherin witch preferred to pace the office, counting off on her fingers the reasons that pairing the two of them up would be lunacy,

"Seventh," she drawled, fully into her stride now "our assets are completely unequal in value. The prenuptial arrangements that my family's lawyer would have to draw up could take years. Eighth. We hate each other. Hate! And that's not a word I use lightly. Let me ask you, is the Ministry prepared to have Granger's blood on its hands? Because I will kill her,"

"Not if I kill you first," muttered Hermione darkly.

"Ha! I'd like to see you try!" Pansy threw back her head and laughed.

"I polished off enough of your pals in the war, it wouldn't cause me any trouble to -"

"Enough!" shouted Mafalda at the two witches who were now toe to toe, wands drawn, "This is Ministry property and our insurance doesn't cover duelling so if we could please all just sit down and talk about this like normal human beings I'd be most grateful. Thank you,"

Hermione and Pansy lowered themselves into chairs, rage sparking from the pair of them. Hermione soon learned how Mafalda had gained such a powerful position in the Ministry, because, with almost no further argument from either of them she managed to convince them that the law was against them and when faced with the options of marriage, having their wands snapped, or Azkaban, they soon started to see the benefits of her idea. Nearly two hours later, Hermione and Pansy left the office betrothed, with the date of their wedding set just over two weeks away.

"Leave it all to me Granger, I'll be in touch," Pansy had ordered coolly and walked off without a second look at Hermione.

When the brunette was out of sight, Hermione slid down the wall she had been leaning on for support, cast quick muffliato and disillusionment charms over herself and sat in the corridor outside the Department of Magical Law Enforcement just letting the tears pour down her face. It took over an hour for her to cry herself out, apply some simple glamours her face - because she was damned if there was even going to be the tiniest chance that that bitch might still be somewhere around she would see that she'd been crying - and venture out in search of something strong to drink.

A few days later Pansy Parkinson strode into Hermione' office with the confident sense of entitlement that only purebloodedness could bring. She threw a piece of parchment onto her desk. Hermione looked up in surprise - she had started to wonder if Pansy was just going to ignore the law and their order to marry altogether.

"Guest list for the wedding, Granger. I've put Harry and your Weasel chums on the list. Anyone else you want?"

Hermione's eyes widened at the sheer number of people on the number of names on the list. There must be two hundred people at least. She recognised a lot of familiar family names that she wasn't totally comfortable with - names that she associated with masks and matching tattoos – but she hoped that their traditional sense of propriety would prevent anything untoward happening at the wedding. Save the unforgivables until after the cake is cut at least. She picked up her quill and added Neville and Luna's names on the bottom before crossing through one name with a decisive slash and handing the list back to her fiancé.

"Lucius Malfoy?" Pansy raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow, "I'm not sure my parents will –"

"He stood and watched that lunatic, Bellatrix Lestrange perform the cruciatus curse on me until her wand arm got tired. And smiled through the whole thing. I don't much care what your parents say, he is not coming to my wedding,"

"Nice to see the curse didn't damage your bossiness," Pansy sighed, rolling up the paper, "I'll have the invitations sent out tomorrow," and she turned and left, her cloak swirling in her wake.

"Wait," called Hermione weakly after her.

Pansy turned on the heel of her sharp stiletto "What?" she snapped.

"Do I get any say in organising the wedding? In fact," she screwed up her Gryffindor bravery in her hands, "are we going to talk about what happens...after the wedding at some point?"

"You mean the consummation?" Pansy smirked, taking obvious enjoyment in the blush that rose to Hermione's face.

"No! I mean the rest of our lives! Or at least until I can find a way to overturn this stupid law, which I can assure you I am working very hard on," she gestured to a pile of very weighty tomes on the end of her desk.

"Why does that not surprise me? Look, come to my place tonight if we must discuss it. In the mean time I have to visit Mafalda Hopkirk and do my own bit in the anti marriage efforts," she swung her cloak open slightly and patted a large sack of what Hermione guessed must be galleons.

"But that's bribery!" Of all of the things that Hermione disliked about herself, her tendency to sound like she was twelve years old when faced with corruption or cheating was the one she disliked the most.

Pansy quirked an eyebrow, "We all have our own areas of expertise. Now I'll see you tonight, about eight. 7 Belgrave Square, Belgravia. I'm on the Floo," and she was gone. Hermione sat and listened as her heels echoed down the corridor. Merlin, that girl irritated her. Everything from her snobbery, to her sarcasm to her turned up nose which it pained Hermione to admit was now not in the slight bit puglike.

oOoOoOo

Just before she was about to step into the fireplace she took one last look in the mirror and added another spritz of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. Impressing her Ministry-ordered future wife wasn't the reason she had taken so much care in dressing, she told her reflection crossly, it was more that the girl had looked down her nose at her for seven years at school and Hermione wasn't going to give her a reason to do it now. She enunciated the address and with a dash of Floo powder, stepped into the flames.

When she emerged she almost stepped straight back in, convinced she was at the wrong address and she had accidentally arrived at an art gallery. Had she tried to imagine the place beforehand, she would have come up with a cleaner version of Grimmauld place, not this light airy space. The ceiling was at least twice as high as her own flat and the walls were covered in paintings. Not the sepia toned, dour faced ancestral portraits that one might expect in a pureblood's abode but bold slashes of colour that had magic woven through them so subtly that you only saw them shimmering, or the paint splashing about gaily, out the corner of your eyes.

Pansy was stood at a drinks cabinet, and Hermione heard the clink of ice and the slosh of liquid into a glass. Her hair was pinned loosely up and she was wearing a burgundy backless dress so dark it was almost black and shocking against her creamy white skin.

"Hermione," she smiled politely, although her eyes were cold.

"Pansy," Hermione forced out. The more choice names she had called her at Hogwarts flowed off the tongue so much more easily. This wasn't going to work,she told herself. She was going to have to marry this girl, or woman, she supposed now, and spend a good proportion of her time with her. For years! Even being in the same room alone with her set Hermione's teeth on edge. They really were going to end up killing each other. Still, Hermione had been studying the law and it seemed as though there was enough play in it that they could lead largely separate lives. The thought of the years stretching out ahead of them made Hermione feel dizzy all of a sudden.

"You alright Granger? You look a bit peaky. If you faint, try not to land on that Hemlock wood table there, it's an heirloom,"

Hermione looked down at the small occasional table and took a step away from it.

"Good girl. There's a seat over there," she gestured vaguely to a velvet chaise in the corner of the room, "glass of wine?"

"Yes please," muttered Hermione, looking enviously at the firewhisky Pansy held as she perched on the edge of the chaise and wishing for some herself.

Pansy came and sat next to her, passing her a glass of red wine. Hermione took a large swallow to try and calm her nerves,

"Oh, it's muggle wine," she exclaimed, grateful that it wasn't the sickly elf made wine that she had never quite grown accustomed to.

Pansy looked horrified, "It is? A muggle product sullying my house? Are you sure? My house elf must be punished," she exclaimed dramatically,

"Maybe I made a mistake," Hermione tried to appease her but it was too late, Pansy was calling for the unfortunate creature,

"Smike, Smike!" she shouted.

"You named your house elf Smike?" Hermione gasped.

Pansy grinned sidelong as an elderly house elf in a smart livery popped into the room, "Actually, he chose it himself, he loves Dickens and has a bit of a flair for the dramatic,"

"I'm beginning to suspect he's not the only one," murmured Hermione as she eyed the elf's clothes with a dawning sensation that there was a joke being made at her expense.

"How can I be helping Miss Pansy?" he asked, his voice completely lacking the subservient tone that so many house elves enjoyed using.

"Miss Granger would like to discuss your choice of wine," Pansy smirked. At this, the elf did at least look slightly nervous,

"Is it alright Miss? Would you prefer something else, only that is Miss Pansy's favourite?"

"It's lovely, thank you," Hermione said weakly, wondering whether she should take another sip to prove it.

"Ah very good Miss. Begging your pardon but are you Miss Pansy's new bride to be that was getting Miss Pansy in such a tizzy earlier?"

"That will be all, thank you Smike," Pansy said hurriedly.

"Sorry Miss Pansy, it's just that she seems very nice and Smike is happy to see you with someone, even if you say she she is a bossy –" Pansy actually stood and physically ushered the elf from the room, "Nice to be meeting you Miss!" Smike shouted over his shoulder as he was hustled out the door.

"You've freed your house elf?" Hermione asked.

"Of course. It just makes sense. Smike was never one for much self flagellation but an elf can hardly work if his hands are in bandages because he thought he needed to iron his fingers or other such nonsense,"

"But do you pay him and give him holidays?" Hermione challenged, strangely disappointed that she wasn't able to admonish Pansy for keeping a house elf.

"Oh give the Spew stuff a rest Granger. Look at you, all grumpy that you can't tell me off. Haven't you grown up at all since school?" Pansy reclined against the chaise.

"I only graduated a few months ago!"

"Oh yes, that's right, I forgot you went back to finish Hogwarts. Couldn't pass up a chance to be school swot for a bit longer,"

"I think you forget that some people actually need qualifications and to work for a living. I can't just buy my way into whatever I want, like you can. How did bribing the Ministry go anyway?"

Pansy scowled, "Mafalda thanked me for what she said she assumed was a donation to help fund research into curse damage at St Mungo's and said she'd see me at the wedding,"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "So not the biggest success then?"

Pansy sniffed, "Not a total success. Then I asked her if she might like to visit the curse damage ward herself, and that didn't go down very well either, So if you have got any of those clever little ideas of yours that used to keep you, Potter and the Weasel out of trouble, now's the time to start coming out with them, because frankly I have neither the hips nor the patience for child rearing,"

"So is that why you said you were gay too? To try and avoid getting married as well?"

Pansy's brow furrowed in confusion, "what do you mean?"

Hermione faltered, "Well, it was that or saying I had Scrofungulus on the exemption from marriage list. Wasn't that why you….?"

"You mean you're not really a lesbian?"

"You are?"

"Is this all just a big joke to you? Do you have any idea how insulting that is to me? That my life is a joke!" Pansy sat bolt upright, firewhisky splashing from her glass.

"That's not it at all! Wait, you thought I was?" Hermione asked, momentarily wrong footed.

"Oh for fucks sake! For someone so smart, you really are an fucking idiot aren't you. Obviously I thought you were!"

"What!?"

They were both shouting now. Spots of colour were appearing high on Pansy's pale cheeks and Hermione's hair was starting to frizz up, despite the extra hair potion.

"I just assumed. I thought it was common knowledge. I mean, you spent months unsupervised in a tent with Potter and Weasley and nothing happened with either of them. You went out with Krum and only gave him a peck on the cheek,"

"You know a lot about my love life," Hermione reddened.

"I can't help it. The Prophet's always full of it. It's being shoved down the entire wizarding population's throats every single day!"

"Well what about you and Draco then?" Hermione was determined not to take all of the blame in this argument, "You seemed pretty friendly with him at school,"

"It suited both of us," Pansy was unable to meet Hermione's eye for a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh come on Hermione, have you had a lobotomy?" she actually had the nerve to reach out and knock on Hermione's forehead, "Draco was never interested in girls, he was like a dog with a bone over Potter for the whole time we were at school. Emphasis on the word bone," she grinned wickedly.

Hermione gasped, scandalised.

"You are not to tell Potter, or anyone for that matter," Pansy ordered haughtily, "Draco isn't exactly proud of his crush on golden snitch balls,"

"So is he going to marry a man then?"

Pansy shook her head, her mouth a thin line, "There was another exemption that they didn't mention on the forms. He was called into the Ministry and told that Death Eaters need not apply. Presumably they're worried about hereditary insanity or something,"

"Oh right, and you're, um, ok on that front?" Hermione's eyes strayed to the Pansy's wine coloured left sleeve. She didn't know exactly who had taken the mark during the war but she wouldn't have been surprised if Pansy had done.

Pansy's black eyes flashed dangerously, "that's the second time you've insulted me in the space of five minutes, I suggest you don't make it a third,"

"Sorry," said Hermione in a way that suggested she was anything but, "but you were all over Malfoy the whole time, and you were a bit of a bitch at school,"

"What the fuck? So because I wasn't Little Miss Sunshine like you, I may as well have signed up to some psychopath's murderous fight for power? You forgot to mention that I was a Slytherin too. That must make me evil. Do you have any idea what you're even saying, suggesting I'm a Death Eater? Just how far you've stepped over the line? Just because I'm from an old family and we've got money and think tradition and good breeding is important, I'd happily go and commit genocide? And you think Purebloods are the prejudiced ones! This is exactly why we don't like Mudbloods – you come strolling in to Hogwarts aged eleven, thinking you own the place and you're better than us, think you know better than needing to understand our ways. You have no idea about the wizarding world, no idea!"

"You call me that again," Hermione dared the dark haired witch.

"Mudblood," Pansy hissed in her face, her eyes narrowed.

Hermione drew her hand back and slapped Pansy sharply across the face. Pansy stepped back, her hand to her cheek.

"I'm sorry," Hermione gasped, knowing she had gone too far.

"Get out!" Pansy whispered, her eyes shining with tears.

"No – just let me – "

"Didn't you hear me, I said get out!" the last two words were more of a scream than coherent words. Hermione fled.

oOoOoOo

Harry grasped Hermione's arm firmly, "Ready to go?"

He gestured with his head out into the garden of Pansy's parents palatial Manor where at that moment, over two hundred witches and wizards were seated in neat rows, awaiting her arrival.

"If I say no, what are you going to do?"

"We could jump on my broom right now and fly away from here. We could go on the run - I'm sure we could find where we left Perkins' tent,"

"I think Ginny would have your balls for earrings if we did that, don't you? Particularly as I'm guessing there's a better reason than 'a headache' that she wasn't drinking at my hen do?"

"She'd have to catch me first," but Harry's eyes were sparkling and he was biting back a wide grin.

"Thank you for doing this for me Harry," Hermione patted his arm. She had failed to locate her parents, having not dared to put any kind of tracker charm on them when she sent them to Australia, and in the absence of her father, had asked Harry to give her away.

"You don't have to thank me, it's just shit that you're having to do this at all,"

"Don't swear, you sound like Ron,"

"Speaking of Ron, how's he taking all of this now? He was pretty upset..." Harry trailed off, the both of them remembering the huge row Ron and Hermione had when she told him that she was having to marry Pansy.

"He's ok. I think he blames himself for not sweeping me off my feet when he had the chance,"

"Something tells me you wouldn't have let him anyway,"

When Hermione didn't answer, Harry inclined his head towards the door "shall we then?" He was just about to step over the threshold into the garden when he paused, "sorry, I should have said before, you look beautiful Hermione,"

Hermione smiled tightly and smoothed down the chiffon skirt of her wedding dress. She was just going to transfigure the dress she wore to her graduation ball into something approaching bridal wear and be done with it but Ginny and Mrs Weasley, perhaps lacking in other female company, insisted that they go out wedding dress shopping. After two hours of swigging warm champagne and seeing a parade of meringue like dresses pass before her eyes, Hermione found the one. It was love at first sight - the dress had a tightly fitted corset with lace straps and filled out into a chiffon ankle skimming ballet skirt. It even had a concealed compartment for her wand, should things turn ugly and she needed to hex her bride. Hermione had tried to apologise but she was blocked from the Floo and any notes she sent trying to apologise were returned, charmed to ignite as soon as they were in her hand. The only contact Pansy allowed was frostily polite owls, discussing the necessary arrangements for the wedding.

They stepped out onto the lawn. Somewhere, Hermione could hear a cello playing as everyone stood and turned to look at her. Harry squeezed her arm and they set off down the aisle.  
Her bride to be was waiting for her under an arch garlanded with white roses and the small sweet flowers from which Pansy's name had originated. Completely out of season and hugely expensive probably, Hermione scowled. Then she looked at her - properly looked for the first time in years. Pansy was wearing a black silk ball gown with a wide flowing skirt and wrist length lace sleeves. The only colour was a slash of dark red lipstick. Her hair was piled up on top of her head and if it wasn't for the furious expression on her face, Hermione would have called her beautiful.

Hermione barely heard the words that the tiny, ancient wizard who conducted their ceremony was saying over the sound of the blood rushing in her ears. She was taking fast shallow breaths to hold back the tears as her entire life came crashing down around her. Wishing she had had the foresight to take a calming draught that morning, she stumbled through her vows, her hands shaking violently. She sneaked a glance at Pansy, who was ramrod straight next to her, her jaw clenched tightly, staring straight ahead. Hermione winced at the anger bristling from her.

Pansy only met her eye once during the ceremony, when Hermione put the ring on her finger. Hermione saw the jolt of shock go through her at what she herself had just experienced. Feeling Hermione's magic join with her own, Pansy looked up, eyes wide. Hermione nodded, almost imperceptibly, to reassure the other witch that she had felt it too.

"You may kiss the bride, er brides," the wizard quavered.

Pansy's face was grim. Her eyes dropped to Hermione's lips. All of the moisture in Hermione's mouth seemed to instantly migrate to the palms of her hands. Pansy, half a head taller, leaned in slowly, awkwardly. Hermione saw her shut her eyes and followed suit. She felt Pansy hesitate, her lips a hair's breadth from her own, the proximity making her nerve endings flare. Sensing that her bride had lost her nerve, she closed the last millimetres between them. Pansy's lips were warm and dry and so soft that Hermione felt that she was falling into them. Somewhere in the distance she heard the sound of applause. Pansy pulled away sharply and her sudden absence felt shocking to Hermione.

Without a word or a smile, Pansy grasped her hand and led her down the aisle.

The reception was possibly one of the most awkward occasions of Hermione's entire life. It was clear that Pansy had not forgiven her for insinuating she was a Death Eater. If pureblood tradition was that one is supposed to speak to one's dinner companion, Pansy was prepared to rebel against the rules for once. They ate in grim silence. Hermione knew the food must have been delicious but it felt like cardboard in her mouth as she marvelled at the gold cherubs that adorned the ceiling of the marquee Pansy's parents had hired.

After the plates had been vanished away, Pansy's father stood and clinked his glass delicately. He had Pansy's colouring but none of her haughty manner which Hermione supposed must come from her mother who was sneering at her husband's speech.

His speech began as more of a political commentary about the liberal Ministry policies that had allowed his daughter to marry someone of such different social status, before descending into a rant about the marriage law, the dilution of magical blood and muggle science being imposed onto the wizarding community. Eventually he ran out of steam and sat down to polite applause. Hermione realised with a start that he had barely mentioned his own daughter. She cast a quick look to the side to see Pansy miserably pushing a crumb around the snowy tablecloth.

Without quite realising what was happening, Hermione found herself standing up and clearing her throat, "I'd like to propose a toast," she announced, "to Pansy, who I have made the mistake of misjudging. I won't make that mistake again," she glanced down and saw Pansy looked wryly amused, "To Pansy," she lifted her glass. The rest of the room lifted their glasses in response.

"You idiot," Pansy grinned when she sat back down, but she didn't say it unkindly or with the brittle veneer of politeness in her voice that had been there all day. The room descended into a soft buzz of chatter.

Pansy looked as though she was going to say something but Marcus Flint approached the top table, smiling nastily. Hermione could see the candlelight reflecting on his crooked teeth.

"So it's true then Pans, you really are a lesbian"

"I told you I was enough times didn't I Flint?" Pansy smiled politely but it didn't reach her eyes.

The hulking quidditch player rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "Thought you were just saying that as an excuse not to go out with me,"

"But you kept pestering her anyway?" Hermione interjected without thinking, forgetting for a moment how much she hated her. She had no idea whether it was an excuse Pansy had made but the thought of her being hounded by unwanted attention made her angry on her new wife's behalf.

"I could handle myself well enough," Pansy turned her anger to Hermione now.

"I never said you couldn't!"

"I'm not one of your stupid magical creatures or something, I don't need protecting,"

Marcus Flint chuckled, interrupting the pair, "Looks like you've got your work cut out with the Mudblood there Pans,"

Pansy reached for her wand and Hermione noticed that her knuckles were white as she grasped it "Marcus, my mother has instructed me to invite you to this wedding and be polite because she's friends with your parents, and I can assure you, that is the only reason why I haven't hexed your balls clean off already. But know this. If you call my wife that name again, I will put you under an Imperius, and I will instruct you to peel," she let the word roll slowly off her tongue, relishing it, "every inch of skin from your body, then we'll all see how clean your blood is for ourselves"

Marcus turned a strange shade of green as Pansy smiled sweetly at him until he shuffled away from the table.

"What did you say that to him for? You've called me that enough times,"

Pansy sighed and rolled her eyes, "You wouldn't understand,"

"Because I'm a stupid mudblood?"

"Because you're a Gryffindor,"

"I am quite intelligent, try me,"

"We're bound together," Pansy explained slowly, in the sort of tone Hermione recognised that she herself sometimes used to Ron, "you are now an extension of me and part of the Parkinson family -"

"There's more chance of me snogging Flint than changing my name to Parkinson," Hermione scoffed.

"Do you ever know when to shut up? You are an extension of me. So if that oaf, or anyone, insults you, they are insulting me too. Which would be bad. For them," she clarified darkly.

"Oh thank goodness, so I might still be a mudblood, but I'm your mudblood,"

"They don't call you the brightest witch of your age for nothing do they?" Pansy smirked. Hermione found her eyes drawn to her lips, remembering how soft they had been when they kissed earlier.

Finally, the last guest had bid them farewell and the last candle had been extinguished,

"Your carriage awaits," Pansy smiled, holding out her arm to Hermione. She held on tight and in a twisting, bone crushing moment they were in what Hermione imagined must be Pansy's bedroom. She shivered involuntarily. The room was dominated by a huge four poster bed, covered in a thick purple quilt.

"What now?" asked Hermione huskily.

"You know what" Pansy looked almost wolfish in the candlelight, "someone from St Mungo's is coming tomorrow to check we've fucked, so we'd better get on with it,"

"How does that even..."

"Just relax and I'll show you," The dark witch grinned, "now turn"

Hermione could feel Pansy's breath tickling the back of her neck.

"Say stop if you want me to," she whispered into her hair but Hermione was frozen to the spot - she didn't think could speak even if she tried - so Pansy continued, her fingers trailing feather light over Hermione's shoulder blades down to the buttons at the back of her dress. Goosebumps followed her touch.

With painstaking slowness, Pansy unbuttoned her dress, down to the very base of her spine. She paused for a moment to take a deep breath that Hermione knew was the last chance Pansy was going to give her to say no.

Pansy pushed the straps of her dress off her shoulders and it fell to the floor in a pool around her feet, leaving her in just her thong and heels. Hermione stood straight, her head held high as Pansy ran the palms of her hands flat down her back, across her buttocks and down the outsides of her thighs. She seemed to be in no hurry, which only added to Hermione's nerves. Her heart seemed to be trying to beat out of her chest and when Pansy finally placed a kiss to the back of her neck, she visibly jumped. Pansy trailed more kisses round the side of her neck before nibbling gently on her ear, causing Hermione to inhale sharply.

Pansy's hands trailed up her sides, skirting the soft skin at the edges of her breasts. The cool air on her bare skin had caused her nipples to pucker and when Pansy brushed the tips of her fingers closer to one of them, Hermione arched her back into her.

"Turn back to face me now," Pansy ordered. Hermione obeyed.

Pansy's hands were in her hair, tilting her head up to her. She met Hermione's gaze for a moment then her eyes flickered to her mouth. Almost as slowly and hesitantly as she had during the ceremony, she lowered her mouth onto Hermione's. This wasn't a chaste, polite kiss though. She kissed her hard, her mouth open and demanding. She pushed her back with the force of her kiss until the back of Hermione's knees hit the bed. The rough lace of Pansy's dress pressed against Hermione's sensitive nipples, making her breasts ache for attention.

Pansy pushed her backwards onto the bed, then started kissing her leg, starting from her ankle and moving upwards at a tortuously slow pace. By the time, she had reached the inside of her knee, Hermione could feel herself starting to get wet. The thought panicked her - that it was a woman, Pansy Parkinson of all people, who was provoking that kind of reaction in her. However, all coherent thought was removed by Pansy licking a neat line up her inner thigh. Without thinking, Hermione parted her legs for her and nearly growled with frustration when Pansy didn't continue with her path.

Instead she moved up the bed to lie next to Hermione, vanishing her own clothes and Hermione's underwear as she did so. She laid next to her, the length of their bodies touching, and kissed her again. This time she was gentle, teasing Hermione's mouth open, their tongues dancing languidly. The softness of Pansy's skin against her own felt heavenly, and Hermione couldn't help herself from letting her hands roam over Pansy's curves. She felt a sharp thrill of pleasure as she ghosted her hand over Pansy's breast and elicited a moan from her.

Soon Hermione noticed a curious problem - the more they kissed, the closer she wanted to be to the other girl. She turned into her side so she was facing her. Pansy responded, moving her hands to cover Hermione's breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers and pinching them gently until they were rosy and pebble hard. Only then did she close her mouth over one of them. At this, Hermione couldn't stifle a groan of tortured pleasure.

Her hands seemed to have a life of their own as they moved to Pansy's hips, pulling her closer still. She was now soaking wet, an aching want between her thighs. Pansy nudged her thighs apart with her knee and slipped her leg between Hermione's. An animalistic part of Hermione's brain took over at the pleasure the added friction gave her and she rutted shamelessly against Pansy's leg.

Pansy flipped her onto her back, battling for dominance, and spread her legs wide. With a wicked grin, she moved down the bed and recommenced kissing her way up Hermione's inner thigh. Hermione fisted the cover and babbled thanks to nameless gods as Pansy's tongue sought the place she was wanting her most. Ron had tried doing that to her once and she hadn't enjoyed it - his stubble had been sharp and uncomfortable and he hadn't seemed to be able to find the right spot. But Pansy had no such problems as she flicked her tongue rapidly back and forth over the throbbing bundle of nerves. Hermione had never felt an orgasm build so fast. She had a moment of feeling scared and out of control before she teetered then fell over the precipice. Her body shuddered in time with the rhythmic contractions emanating from her core. Stars flashed in the blackness of her vision and for a long moment she was floating in nothingness before the waves of her orgasm subsided.

When she opened her eyes, Pansy was grinning at her. Hermione couldn't help but smile lazily at her. Pansy took Hermione's hand and guided it gently between her legs,

"Please," she whispered.

Hermione felt at once that Pansy was as wet as she was. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensations. She tried to imagine it was her own clitoris she was stroking, tried to use the right amount of pressure and touch Pansy as she herself liked to be touched. She guessed she was getting it right by the panting moans that Pansy was letting out and the way her hands were clenching and unclenching in the cover. As she saw Pansy nearing her own orgasm, she couldn't help but feel aroused at the power she was exerting over her - that it was her name that Pansy was whispering over and over again. As if sensing it, Pansy's fingers slipped between her legs, urging her towards a second climax.

They came together, sweat slicked bodies slipping against each other in the darkness, convulsing with pleasure.

Somewhere above, fireworks exploded into light and noise, painting the night sky.

* * *

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	13. Sacrificial Bond

**Wordsmiths & Betas Marriage Law One Shot Writing Competition**

\- Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. You will find this information at the bottom of each entry. Thank you for reading!

 **Title: Sacrificial Bond**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Angst, Romance**

 **Pairing: Harry Potter / Draco Malfoy / Millicent Bulstrode**

 **Triggers: None**

 **Warnings: Minor Character Death (Off Screen), Triad**

 **Disclaimer:** All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the authors represented here are profiting from these stories.

* * *

 **Sacrificial Bond**

* * *

If there was one thing that kept restless feet still, one thing that allowed them to shut out the world, it was the rapid breathing of one against the other in the aftermath of waking up tangled in charcoal sheets. Harry lay with his cheek against the steady rising and falling of Draco's chest. If he held his breath, he could hear both heartbeats, and he grinned. His lover's hand trailed lazily along his side, disrupting a coil of gooseflesh, causing it to tip over and erupt across his skin from his shoulder down to the tips of his toes. He nudged against the bud of Draco's nipple with his nose, feeling the low, rumbling exhale leave his partner.

Drifting in a post-coital haze, Harry's eyes slipped slowly downward. It wasn't long before a snore was heard and Draco chuckled, placing a kiss to the man's forehead. "I love you too, Harry." As he lifted a shoulder, digging his elbow into the bed in an attempt to get out from beneath his lover's weight, a loud set of chimes went off, startling the sleeping brunette. Harry's nails dug into Draco's side and hip, making Draco wince, grab for the hand he could reach, and fall back to the bed. "It's fine, Harry. Just the floo."

"Oh. I'll get it." Harry sat up, groggily rubbing at his face with both hands. "Were you leaving?" Draco smiled in response. "Prat." The chimed sounded again. "Fine, fine. I'm coming." He stood, reached down beside the bed to grab a pair of loose trousers and pulled them on. Draco breathed in sharply as Harry tripped over a pant leg, nearly falling to the floor in the process. "M'fine. Coming."

* * *

"Hermione You're been my best friend since we were eleven, but it's too bloody early for this." In the flames where he knelt, he could only see the top of her forehead and, occasionally, her eyes. She was looking down at something.

"Yes, yes. I know. But Harry?"

"Yea?" Now, her soft brown eyes were looking straight at him and he could tell she'd been crying.

"It's happening."

"Are you sure?"

"Kingsley just owled me. I've got the final legislation here. I can get you a copy, but… it's everything we've already talked about."

"Refresh my memory, Hermione. If I've got to break this news to my husband…" he trailed off, letting her work it out.

"Well," she took in a deep breath, looking back down at the parchment. "I guess I'll only go over the parts that pertain to you." Her expression was soft, traces of pity almost covered the agony for a best friend. "They're saying it's a choice. All childless couples may dissolve their marriage bond—"

"But they can't! Do you know what that means, Hermione?"

She winced. "Yes, Harry. One or more of the partners may not survive. It's even written in the legislature."

"That is barbaric. I thought they were supposed to be saving us, not bloody well killing us all off! How is this helping anything?"

"Harry, please let me finish this." Harry clenched his jaw, fisting the knee of each trouser leg. He nodded tersely. "If the couple does not wish to dissolve the marriage bond, the option is presented to become a triad." He scoffed.

"That's right, just fuck anything that moves while my husband stands by and watches. That will go over really well." He rolled his eyes.

"Harry, this is probably your best option."

"How is this my best option? We can get this repealed. We have you working on it!"

Hermione took in a stuttered breath while thick tears began rolling down her cheeks. "I-I've tried, Harry. I've tried so-so m-many times. Kingsley and I worked every night for a month. I barely saw George. Fred even stayed overnight at the ministry with me a few times and George was furious!" She smiled at this and Harry chuckled, running a hand through his greasy locks. "Harry, I'm begging you. Don't break your own heart—or his. Find a third. We can find you a third."

"I have to talk to Draco."

"You all right, love?" He heard George walk up behind Hermione, patting her shoulder. She turned away from the flames and nodded toward her husband. "Harry?" He didn't realize he'd looked away from the couple. "Harry, look at me." He did. "Please talk some sense into him. I realize that you two have finally found your peace, but sometimes… sometimes we need to do things we're not comfortable with in order to keep moving forward." She looked back to her husband and smiled.

It had taken Hermione a long time to realize that being the Wizengamot's research assistant, assigned directly to the minister, was not the most important thing in her life. While that position offered her the chance to research proposed laws, offering advice directly to Kingsley as a trusted advisor in an official capacity, she also found herself oddly in love with a lanky ginger who refused to walk away. When Hermione caught wind of the upcoming Marriage Law proposal, she shut down entirely until she felt she'd read everything she could about wizarding marriage, breeding, pureblood weddings and birthing rituals. It was pushed through during a session when Hermione was unavailable to the Minister, assigned on another project. They had been feeding Kingsley along with their Wizengamot allies every scrap and bit of parchment on it they could in the hope of waylaying a passing vote.

She'd been trying to fight it—for them, for Dean and Seamus, for Ginny who'd yet to marry. It didn't affect her and George, as little Fred was a little over seven months now. As the time passed and Hermione looked worse for wear, Harry grew a little lost in all of their conversations. He was unable to keep things straight as to which text she was reciting from or whether a quote she'd been telling him was from the Wizengamot session currently in or from something different entirely. This news, though, shook him to the core.

After the war, Harry and Draco drifted toward one another—Draco's anger clinging to Harry's grief. No one else understood it, but then again, they didn't have to. Oddly enough, it was Ron who was the most comfortable with the new couple. After all, his relationship with Luna took them all by surprise. Slowly, their friends accepted that Harry and Draco just were. There were some that shook their heads. Others chose not to be around the couple. Still, there were others who defamed and publicly despised Harry for being with a death eater. Those were the most challenging in the beginning. After all, the war was fought to end the prejudice against one another. It didn't matter that some were on one side and others were practically born on another. The war took too many lives and that's what landed them in the situation they now stood.

Two wizarding wars in two generations. Too few witches and wizards to keep the magical blood flowing. Surely, there would be a boon in children at the resurgence of hope and the end of a war as there was the last time, but would it be enough? The Wizengamot surely didn't think so. Therefore, at the behest of the few, they made a choice for the many.

* * *

"Well that was refreshing. I highly recommend that you at least brush your—" Draco was rambling, staring at the pillow he'd been fluffing when he spun around to face his husband. "Who was on the floo?" His eyes narrowed.

"Hermione."

"What did Weasley want?" He stilled completely now, coming to stand at his full height. He wore trousers now, too. The silk fabric of them rode low over his hips, yet Harry did nothing. His eyebrow rose. "Potter."

"The marriage law. It's-it passed." Harry's face fell. Unable to stand across the room from his partner, lover, now husband of several years, he crossed the room. Draco did not move. He did not speak. He did not react when Harry gripped him about the waist and began mumbling against his naked chest. "Draco? Draco have you heard a word I said?" Harry stepped back, wiping tears from his face.

"I'm sorry. What does this mean?" He looked pained, confused.

"Sit down, Draco." Harry waited for his husband to sit, then occupied the space next to him. A deep breath carried him forward into remembering everything Hermione told him just a short time ago. "We either have to have our marriage bond dissolved," he paused, reaching for Draco's hand and squeezing it. "Or we have to find a third."

"I don't know what good a third cock in our bed will do us, Harry." He laughed then; a short, barking, laugh, but there it was none-the-less.

"We need to find a _female_ third, Draco."

"What the hell would I do with a woman? I didn't marry a woman. That much should be obvious. My cock shrivels every time I think about the pity fuck I gave Pansy just to get it over with." His grey eyes were molten steel against anything Harry had to say about the pug-nosed woman.

"It wouldn't be Pansy. We can choose."

"What woman do you know who wants to bond with the golden boy and a death eater?" He scoffed at himself, hands on his knees now.

"There's another option," Harry paused, unsure whether or not Draco was in the right mind for hearing it. He said it anyway. "We can let the Ministry choose for us."

"Who, pray tell, did they give that miserable job to?"

"Someone volunteered to work out the details on the Ministry's end." Draco turned to Harry then, all sharp angles and despair.

"Who, Harry?"

"Hermione."

* * *

The notice came quickly. Neither of them expected for the ministry to match them to someone within a few days. Harry called over to Hermione and George's house to find out that the pressure on her was unbelievable. She'd slept in her office the night before, drooling across several profiles and needing to scourgify them upon waking. Harry and Draco, however, had been her priority. With each female application, they were her first thought. That was how they found themselves standing just inside the door to the rebuilt Potter Cottage in Godric's Hollow, completely gobsmacked by the face in front of them.

"Bulstrode?" Draco asked incredulously.

Standing before them was a broad-shouldered woman with black waves that lay softly to her elbows. Caught off-guard, she righted herself, shoulders squared, just an inch or so taller than Harry. Her robe was flowing open in a breeze that played it around her ankles, outlining the narrowing of her waist and the flare of her hips. While neither man paid particular attention to these feminine features, they did create a striking figure—outside of the tear-reddened cheeks and constant sniffling.

"Draco." She looked straight into the eyes of her Hogwarts classmate, then noticed the man standing beside him. "Hello Harry." Her voice was slightly softer, but that could have been because of the continued sobs plaguing her.

"Do forgive us, Millicent. Please come in." Harry gestured the woman in, unsure what was happening between his husband and their guest. "Can I get you anything? Some tea, perhaps? It looks a bit chilly out there." She nodded. "All right then. Why don't we all come in to the kitchen and I'll get everyone something."

"Whiskey, Harry. I'll need Whiskey." Harry pursed his lips, but inclined his head toward his husband, trying to ignore the man's rudeness.

"This way, Millicent." Harry motioned for her to follow and all three walked in silence.

Once in the kitchen, Harry filled a muggle tea pot to boil and Draco rolled his eyes, leaning against the opposite counter. Millicent sat at the table and wiped clumsily at her eyes. For a few minutes there was nothing but the gathering of steam. Steam for tea, steam for confrontation, and steam for whatever was building up inside of Draco.

"I'm sorry, Millie. Can you please tell me why you are so upset?"

"They didn't tell you?" She looked horror-stricken for a moment, then sat up, ever the proper Slytherin. "Of course they didn't. Wouldn't want spoiled goods then." Draco huffed loudly. She stared in return. "As you may know, Draco, I was bonded to Greg."

"Goyle?" Harry asked. Millicent nodded.

"We got together a couple years ago." A smile, then her fingers began a nervous cadence on the table. "When the law came out, we knew we were in trouble. We'd not been using potions or spells. It took me a while, but I convinced Greg that we should both go to St. Mungo's for testing. Maybe we just needed a fertility potion, you know?" She looked up to Harry, who was fiddling with the burbling teapot, but hummed in acknowledgment. "It turned out that Greg, he… he couldn't have children."

"Of course. The great git couldn't get anything right."

"Draco." Harry's tone was firm, a warning. Millicent glared.

"Of course, St. Mungo's reported it to the Ministry and they dissolved our bond. It's in some sub-section of some obscure part of the law. We didn't know, or we would have just kept quiet and tried the potions first." Harry placed a cup in front of her, honey and sugar already out. She smiled up at him in thanks. "Four days. He made it four days after they dissolved the bond."

"I've been told that's a long time, actually." Harry spoke quietly, but they both stared at him. "Many aren't lasting the day. I'm sorry Millicent."

"I know that he wasn't much to either of you, but we loved each other in our own way." Harry sat next to her, placing a hand over hers as it shook against her mug.

"Love means a lot to me, Millicent. It doesn't matter whose it is. That's why we fought this damned war to begin with."

She looked up at him then and an understanding passed between the two. Draco shifted across the room, causing them to jump.

"I'm supposed to give you this. Well, both of you, I guess." Harry reached for it just as Draco raised his wand. He snagged the parchment before Draco managed to get the spell out.

"This is an addendum to the law. It's not been out a week and they're adding to it already! How is this fair?" He continued reading.

"Harry, you need to start reading that bloody piece of parchment out loud before I hex your bollocks from here." The brunette blushed, looking up at his husband with the scroll between his pale fingers. Millicent had the good grace to say nothing.

"Under the Wizarding Ministry Marriage Law, subsection 24, part F: With the formation of a new triad, a child must be conceived within the first six months. If said child is not conceived within the prescribed timeframe, all bonds will be dissolved and any living partners will be reassigned."

"RE- ASSIGNED? Please tell me that isn't the word you just read?" Draco was fuming now, stalking around the table to where Harry stood. Millicent shrunk as much as she could into her chair. Harry started walking backward, the hand with the parchment in it slowly lowering toward the floor. When he saw Draco's wand lifting, Harry's eyes widened just a bit, mouth hanging open. " _INCENDIO!_ " The scrap he held went up in flame, small bits of ash drifting to the floor.

"Draco, calm down." There was nothing calm about Draco Malfoy. Every muscle in his lean frame stood out against his trousers and button-down. His wand nearly vibrated in his hand with the effort he was putting into withholding his magic. "Draco, love. We'll find a way." During the brief respite during which the blonde seemed to breathe, Harry managed to move into his personal space, gripping the wand hand and lowering it.

"Don't you find this all a bit disgusting?" Draco asked, indicating the parchment, the law, the world in general. Millicent looked down at the table, cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

"He doesn't mean you, Millicent." Harry pushed Draco back a step. "I will not lose you, Draco. I fucking died to get us here, to get us _all_ here alive. I understand that you've lost a husband," he looked to Millicent, "and I am utterly terrified of losing mine. This?" He pointed to the pile of ash. "This means nothing. _We_ mean nothing if we can't get through today. We've been through so much worse."

"Bulstrode. I assume you have things to be moved in?" She looked taken aback by Draco's address and matter-of-fact question.

"Ye-yes. They are stored at the Ministry. Greg's father seized the manor when he knew that I was going to be…" She let the words fade away, not wanting to upset the two men in the room again, nor reference her many questions to the current situation.

"I'll floo Hermione to have them sent here immediately. There is a guest bedroom down the hall." She looked between the two men, unsure how to respond.

"You're not going to refuse me?"

"Why on earth would we do that?" Harry's question was abrupt, almost seeming to shock himself.

"I was never your friend, Draco. We played the loyal Slytherin nest mates in school, but that's all it was. You truly wanted nothing to do with me." She ignored the hard look he was giving her to turn toward Harry. "And Harry. I don't even know you. You know nothing of me aside from who I'm sure you think I was during the war."

"We all did many things we're not proud of during the war, Millie." Draco's use of a school nickname brought a smile to the woman before him and he walked up to her for the first time since she'd appeared at his door. "If I can forgive Potter for stalking me and even trying to kill me, then I think we can forgive you the sins of a teenaged girl in war."

Harry snorted, laughed, then punched his husband in the shoulder. "Git."

* * *

It had been a week of silent breakfasts, awkward goodbyes as they rushed out the floo to work, and several bottles of firewhiskey to calm the nerves. Surprisingly, it was Draco who spoke quietly in Harry's ear as they rose for the day.

"We shouldn't wait too long."

"I don't—"

"We'll just ask her what she wants, Harry."

Harry nods. That's all Draco needed before pulling away, his warmth leaving Harry bereft and alone in the space he'd always been safe. He didn't feel safe. Instead, he clutched the blankets tighter around him for just a minute, scrunching his eyes as if he could ignore the world for a little while longer.

"I'll meet you down for breakfast."

"Mkay." It was muffled and Draco huffed as he walked out the door.

By the time Harry joined them in the kitchen, Millicent had breakfast splayed across the table. They'd taken to sharing cooking duties, outside of Draco, as his penchant was more for burning anything he touched than producing something edible.

"Morning Millicent." She smiled up at Harry, a cautious lift of the cheeks as she served herself some of the fry-up. "It smells wonderful." This made her blush a bit, still awkward with any praise.

"Thank you Harry. I wasn't sure what either of you wanted this morning, so I made a bit of everything." She rambled when she was nervous. She did that a lot when both of them were around. Draco's cool eyes met his and Harry swallowed thickly around his pumpkin juice.

"Millicent?" She looked up. "We need to talk. About, er, what we need to do." They all stopped. Draco laid his fork down. Millicent just froze in place. Harry shoved the bite of food in his mouth and didn't seem to think about chewing it. He spoke with the food still uncomfortably there. "It's about, um, the law."

"Or for Merlin's sake, Harry. Chew your food and don't drag this out." He turned on Millicent now. "It's been a week. Neither of us has had sex with you. How do you want to do this?"

If she was blushing before it didn't even come close to the scarlet spreading rapidly across her cheeks and down her neck. She took a polite drink of her juice and waited a minute before answering.

"Harry. I would prefer just Harry right now." Her pleading eyes fell on the brunette and he nodded in return, teeth clenched around the remaining bit of sausage there.

"It's settled then. I have a few things to finish at the shop this afternoon. I'll leave you two to it." It sounded like a business transaction, too formal and stilted. Millicent stared at her food, poking at it listlessly. Harry managed to shove the last few bites into his mouth before excusing himself to clean the dishes.

* * *

"Come in." Harry's knock was so quiet, he was sure she wouldn't hear, but the voice on the other side assured him she had.

The bedroom they put Millicent in was large, open, and exposed to the woods on the back of the property. There were several tall windows letting in the sunlight, charmed shades letting in a hazy orange to match the deep umber of the walls. His eyes fell to the bed where a thick comforter was pulled back to reveal satin sheets of the deepest midnight. Realizing that he hadn't seen Millicent, he spun quickly around, trying to find her.

"Millicent?" His voice was hesitant.

"Over here, Harry." In the corner by the door, she stood tall, trying to remain steadfast. Harry nodded, walking a few steps toward her.

"Are you… okay? Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine." It came out quick, sharper than she intended, so she followed with, "Thank you for asking, Harry." He nodded once in acknowledgment.

"Shall we…?"

The deep breath she took was loud enough he closed his eyes, taking one of his own in return. She walked toward him. When he opened his eyes again, she was standing directly before him. The tension was thick, buffeting between them on each breath. Millicent made the first move by walking past him to the bed. She did not look back, but began to take her robe off. She placed this gently on the back of a chair that sat in the corner. This was followed by untucking her shirt from her trousers, pulling it up and over her head. As she did so, she revealed a cream and black bra that hugged her breasts just so. Harry swallowed thickly as he watched, unsure what to do.

Rather than wait for an invitation, he walked to the other side of the bed and began undressing himself, a bit more quickly than she'd been. The occasional glance up showed that she was nearly naked. He wasn't sure how to handle his body's reaction. Part of him wanted absolutely nothing to happen, but another part of him was shocked to find her beautiful in a very different sort of way. When his pants hit the floor, discarded haphazardly like the rest of his clothes, he looked up, meeting the unsure eyes of Millicent across the bed. His cock was half hard and so many conflicting thoughts raced through his mind.

He watched as she climbed onto the bed, following her once she was lying on her back. She arranged her hair to the side, soft curls flowing over one shoulder. Harry took a moment. There was a scar across her left shoulder and he reached out, tentatively, to trace his hand across it. She jumped and he pulled back.

"Sorry."

"It's all right. I just wasn't…"

"I know."

She looked away for a moment. Harry slowly reached out to trace the scar and she did not react this time. He let out a deep breath he didn't know he'd been holding. When his hand was nearing the end, he pressed his palm against her flesh, moving closer. She reached out and gripped his palm tightly. Their eyes met. Tears were starting to fall from one of her eyes and his lip trembled. He used his other hand to wipe them away.

"Are you sure you're ready for this? We don't have to."

"Yes."

"I'm not sure I can."

"You can, Harry." His own tear escaped then, dropping to fall on her chest and roll down with every catch of her breath. They stared at one another, each thinking of a partner they were betraying in one form or another.

Harry reached down, taking himself in hand. He used slow, even strokes to try and get hard. He didn't realize he'd closed his eyes until he felt another hand join his and he gasped. Millicent's cold fingers wrapped around him and she began stroking. It was strange. It wasn't the sure, hard, twisting stroke of Draco that he was used to. This was a tight-fisted pump at the bottom which released a bit toward the head and rounded just a bit to swipe at his pre-come there. His body ignored whatever walls his mind tried to throw up and he was hard from her efforts. She gave him a strong squeeze and removed her hand.

He took this as his cue. Harry shifted his body between her legs, a foreign territory if he'd even entered one. Trailing fingers up her muscled thighs, he gently swiped at her folds, watching as she reacted, fighting it with a turned head and clenched jaw. He parted her there, his thumbs seeking out just the right spot. As he found it, she squirmed, clamping down against his hips. This made him confident enough to dip a finger inside of her wet heat, seeing that her body was ready, even if she was not. He slid a second finger in and twisted a few times, unsure of exactly what he should be doing there. When she looked down at him with pleading eyes, a strained look overcame her; he pulled away and scooted forward. Using his fingers to rub some of her across the head of his cock, he eased forward, taking a moment to find precisely where he needed to be. She gasped once when he was slightly off-center and helped guide him.

Sliding slowly into Millicent felt like he'd shoved his cock into molten fire. She was eating him alive and it felt wonderful. When he was fully seated, her fingers grasped at his hips and held him there for a minute, each body still, breathing, waiting. It became too much for him and he slid out, thrusting back in with a slight twist of his hips that had her gasping beneath him. He set a steady rhythm, trying to find an angle that pleased them both, but more trying not to come too quickly with the new sensations. Between the feeling of Millicent wrapped around him and the war going on in his head, he was overwhelmed. He dropped his head to her chest, his breath coming stuttered more because of the tears rolling down his cheeks than the orgasm gathering low in his belly.

Millicent was faring no better. Beneath the onslaught of Harry's awkward, gentle thrusting, she felt his tears spread across her chest as they mixed with her own. Hers slipped softly down her face, trailed down her neck, and pooled in the hollow spaces of her collarbones. Each time he dragged across a particularly sensitive spot, she arched beneath him, and they moaned together, sometimes wailing aloud in their grief.

"Millie, I-I'm sorry." It came out quickly, too quickly, as his hips snapped sharply against her and she felt him spill himself deeply inside her. They clung to each other, either too afraid to move or completely unprepared to deal with the emotions they would need to face when they did. He lay with his head on her shoulder and her legs splayed open around him, her hands softly holding on to his hips where they'd likely left bruises. After a minute that felt an eternity, Harry slowly pulled out, rolling to his side. It took a bit, but when the tears subsided, he wiped at his face and sat up. "I'm so sorry. You don't deserve this." He leaned over her and placed a kiss to the inside of her shoulder. Her eyes widened for just that moment as he made contact once more, then scooted off the bed. Harry gathered his clothes, then walked out of the bedroom. She lay on the bed alone and prayed to every god who might be listening that she was pregnant.

* * *

Draco came home late that evening to find Harry curled up asleep in their bed. He was not strewn across the entire thing as per usual; instead, he was on his side of the bed, knees tucked up to his chest as far as his body would allow. While Draco found this odd, he didn't wake his husband. The lean blonde disrobed, allowing some of the day's stresses to shed with his clothing on the floor. He climbed beside Harry and immediately noticed the tension in the man's body. Harry stirred, almost moving away from Draco. He did not let his lover move away. Draco wrapped his arms around the waist in front of him.

"I love you, Harry," Draco whispered against the cool skin of his shoulder. This is when he noticed the shaking of Harry's body, the sniffling and silent sobs wracking the man he held. They did not speak. Draco held him and allowed Harry to feel his presence. It wasn't long before exhaustion pulled them into a long-awaited sleep.

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was informal. It seemed as if no one had the energy to cook. Harry was nibbling his way through a piece of toast while he watched Draco warm up a bowl of oats. That was something he could manage on his own. Terse silence fell across both men when Millicent entered, eyes red and swollen. She walked past the table to the counter, grabbed a croissant and flipped it onto a plate. There was a brief moment where she debated taking it back to her room, but she chose to sit at the table.

"Harry, I—"

"You don't need to say anything, Millicent."

"Back to Millicent now?" Her shoulders slumped. The croissant was tossed back onto the plate as if unappetizing. "Harry, I need to apologize." He looked confused.

"Why should you be apologizing?

"I've just waltzed into your lives and disrupted what looks to be a happy marriage."

"That's not your fault."

"Neither is it yours."

"I am sorry, Harry. I don't think either of us were prepared for last night."

"No," he agreed sadly. "We weren't." He pushed his toast around for a minute. "I have an idea. Why don't we all go on a date this afternoon? Get to know each other a little better."

"I would like that."

Harry looked to Draco, who seemed to be politely following the conversation as he ate his breakfast. Millicent turned to him now, as well. "Well, it seems you two already have this decided. Where are we going, then?"

"We could have a picnic, or we could go flying, or… Millie, I don't even know what you like to do." She smiled at the use of her nickname.

"I'd love to go flying again. It's been a while."

"Flying it is!" Harry stood from the table, dumped his uneaten toast in the rubbish and raced outside. The remaining pair chuckled together at his enthusiasm.

The brunette had three brooms in hand before Draco and Millicent were ready to leave the house. They didn't fly far. Rather, they explored Godric's Hollow. Millicent was unfamiliar with the area, so Harry was more than happy to oblige. Proper notice-me-not spells were cast and the trio was in the air. Harry and Draco whirled around one another, making dives and practicing seeker moves that had Millicent's hair spinning as they darted past. In the lulls, where both men needed a breather, Harry and Millie spat questions at one another. Occasionally, Draco was pulled into the conversation and once, he even made Millie laugh.

When they returned to the cottage, all three were a bit lighter—even Draco, who spent most of the flight watching Harry's arse and ignoring his husband's jibes about it. Brooms put away, the trio walked into the lounge where they collapsed onto the couch. After all of their talk that afternoon, it was Millicent again who brought up the heavy conversation of their current situation.

"I think I'm ready to… try again." Harry looked to his left, where Millie sat. Draco's grip around his husband's shoulders instinctively tightened.

"Millie, we don't have to. After last night, maybe we just need more time to get used to everything, each other." He tilted his head to the side, an insecure look plastered across his face.

"I'm ready, Harry. If you aren't. If you don't want to. I understand."

"No. No, I… when should I?"

"Both of you. It should be both of you." That had Draco sitting tense beside him.

"Millie…" Harry started, but she interrupted.

"No. As I said earlier, you two were happy. We can't put the blame on ourselves for this. What we can do is forgive each other for the things we must do." She was on the verge of crying again, wondering if she could produce any more tears after a long night alone. Instead, she took a deep breath and continued. "If I know your husband even a little, I know that he has never been one to share." Draco's upper lip quirked up at this, amused. "Unfortunately, we haven't got a choice now. I _am_ on a breeding deadline, after all." Those tears she was trying to hold back came freely then. Harry leaned forward, allowing her to use his shoulder for support.

"Millie, we'll get through this." All he heard in response were her sniffles. He was at a bit of a loss. Turning back to Draco, he nodded toward the woman in his arms, gesturing for Draco to help.

"Millie, we are here for you." It was stilted and formal, but for Draco, it was a miracle. Millicent grabbed hold of Harry and the crying intensified. He held on to her as she let it all go. At some point, Harry noticed that she'd fallen asleep and was breathing evenly against him. He continued his even stroking up and down her back, whispering against her ear that they would help her through it for a few more minutes until she turned away from him and snuggled back into him, still asleep.

There they were, stuck on the couch for fear of waking her up. Harry dozed in and out while Draco tried his hardest to ignore the erection in his trousers from having his husband constantly grinding his hips backward in his sleep. Eventually Draco gave up.

Draco woke with a slight jolt. The crick in his neck was painful, so he lifted a hand to rub it away, only to find a lap full of Harry. While he certainly didn't mind that, he looked beyond Harry to see Millie curled up at the end of the couch, feet resting against Harry's thigh. He let out a soft sigh, realizing that he likely wouldn't end up back in the bedroom for a quick morning shag. Placing a soft kiss to his husband's neck, he felt the man stir.

"Don't move; you'll wake Millie." Harry was suddenly alert. The brunette twisted to look at the woman next to him before leaning his face upward. There, his lips were met with Draco's. The angle was awkward, but two fingers beneath his chin allowed all the support he needed to keep his head from moving away. Soft, gentle kisses followed by a slow dance of Draco's tongue against his own saw Harry sighing loudly. They ignored the world around them until Draco hitched just briefly. Harry picked up on the movement, pulling back.

"Your love is beautiful," Millie whispered from across the way. A blush spread from Harry's cheeks all the way down his neck and into his chest; the red splotches apparent even in the dim light of early evening. "Please, don't be shy, Harry." The man in question buried his face into Draco's shoulder, where his husband laughed in response.

"You're telling that to the wrong wizard." Her eyebrows lifted. "This one's shy about everything." A silent "oh" formed on Millie's lips and she nodded softly. Draco smiled and placed a kiss to the top of Harry's head. "Would you like me to leave you two alone again tonight?"

"No, Draco. I meant it when I said it should be all of us." Still a bit shocked, perhaps put off somewhat by her brazen declaration, Draco nodded.

There weren't words as the three of them moved toward Harry and Draco's bedroom. The door was left open. A large circular window threw moonlight across the room bright enough that they did not light any candles, nor cast any spells. Wands were set aside. Millie and Draco looked at one another and nodded in understanding.

Surrounding Harry, Millie placed a kiss to his cheek while Draco's cool hands slipped under his jumper and began shuffling it up his body. He turned to look at his husband, but Draco bit gently at his neck and spun him back around. Harry shivered. Millie was there to catch him, raising a hand to his face once his jumper was off and kissing him chastely. Harry's eyes widen, but when he doesn't fight, she deepened the kiss. This time, there was a slide of tongue against his lips and he let her in. Draco continued disrobing Harry, reaching around to unbutton his trousers, hearing the gasp as he did so. He slid them down the man's firm thighs, making sure to run his fingers along the outsides.

Harry braced himself against Millie when Draco lifted first one foot, then the other. In just his pants, he felt exposed. He reached forward to help Millie out of her clothing, but she smiled and stepped back. Hands pulled him backward against a bare chest and Draco's teeth grazed up the side of his neck, tugging at his earlobe when they neared. Harry gasped. Against his arse was the delicious feel of his husband's cock, pulsing as it ground into him in eagerness. Before him, Millie has stripped down to her bra and panties. She no longer wore cream and black but a soft lavender that complemented her smooth skin.

Without warning, Harry was bereft. Draco walked around his lover to stand behind Millicent. Her head dipped as she felt confident fingers trace along her shoulders and down her spine, where he released the clasp of her bra. Draco tugged the fabric from her and tossed it aside. She stood tall, trying not to be embarrassed in front of the men she's now legally bonded to.

"Are your nipples sensitive, Millie?" He listened for the intake of breath before reaching around, cupping one large breast and pinching it between thumb and forefinger. She moaned, twisting her hips. Harry stood motionless. When he moved to the other, rolling it around, flicking it a few times, then plucking it outward, watching as it tented beneath his attention, she let her head fall against his shoulder. Harry licked his lips watching his husband, the intense gaze in Draco's eyes staring right back at him while plying Millie's body.

Harry stepped forward, too interested now to leave them alone. Draco allowed Millie to rest her weight back on him, his hands sliding lower to push her legs into a wider stance. Harry's lips found her open mouth, trailing down her neck to her other breast. She bucked forward against him when his mouth latched on, sucking it in. Her taste was sharp and sweet and he laved at the skin until he felt her panting. Draco's fingers wound their way down the crevice of her thigh into her folds. Brushing against that white-hot fireball of nerves, she came alight between her lovers. Writhing, moaning, guttural noises came out of the woman as she struggled to keep everything in. Draco's finger slips just inside, encouraging one of Harry's to join him.

Now pressed between the two heated bodies, Millicent felt her legs give, felt the arms of the men hold her up and each plunge a finger into the depths of her core. That searching, reaching, come-hither scrape set her off and Harry couldn't help but reach forward to kiss Draco over Millie's shoulder. Their tongues dueled briefly before parting to help the languid body between them to their bed. Draco directed Millie to the far edge of the bed, laying on her side, with Harry behind her. Stripped bare, Harry felt his cock snug up against her arse, pushing achingly into flesh in search of something… more.

It wasn't until Draco opened the drawer of the stand by the bed that Harry had any idea what he planned to do. The brunette looked over his shoulder, eyes hazy with love, lust, and utterly lost to the moment. Draco crept up the bed behind his husband and uncapped the jar, dipping a finger into the lube and generously coating the length of two fingers. As the substance warmed and began to liquefy a bit, he moved his hand downward to Harry's arse, coating the entrance and pushing just enough for his husband to still and breathe deeply. Millicent lay on the other side, unaware of Draco's movements, and instead, rocked back onto Harry's cock.

The slow, sliding grind was driving Harry mad. Combined with the way Draco was now curling two fingers inside him, he was bound to come rather more quickly than he'd like. He took the opportunity to reach down and pinch himself, feeling his erection flag for just a moment—but it was enough. A moan slid from his throat as Draco's third finger entered him and Millie's hand was between her own thighs, squirming as she rocked forward onto it, then back into Harry.

"Are you ready, Harry?" Draco's voice was a bit deeper than normal. Harry couldn't respond, only nod. Draco reached across Harry to stop Millie's hand, pulling her thigh open just enough for the brunette to get the idea. He groaned as he angled upward, pushing softly into the quivering heat Millie offered. She grunted, grabbing the bed linen with her left hand for support while she waited for him to _move._ It was Harry's turn to wait. He knew what was coming and tried to relax as he felt Draco rustling with the jar behind him and then the blunt head of that familiar cock at his entrance. The dual sensations were nearly enough to end him, but Draco bit down roughly on his shoulder. Harry cried out just as Draco's cock pushed through, then hissed as he slid in.

"Fuck," was all Harry could manage. Draco began to withdraw and it sucked Harry backward from Millie. She breathed deeply before feeling him thrust forward at Draco's urging. It took a few practiced strokes before Harry was able to go against Draco's movements toward Millie. As the blonde withdrew, Harry pushed mindlessly forward into the woman clutching tightly to his pillow.

Too many sensations and so little preparation had all three of them breathing heavily, sweating in the twisting mass of flesh they became. Millie, having just come recently, and aggressively using the palm of her hand to stimulate herself, was the first to let loose. She was followed quickly by Harry, his orgasm ripped from him by her tightly clenching walls which refused to let him go until every last drop was gone. The last to be sated was Draco, still thrusting into the moaning and delirious man caught between. It wasn't until his husband looked back at him, hair plastered to his forehead, cock still buried deep in their new lover, whispering, "I love you, Draco," that he let it all go. Draco leaned forward and captured Harry's lips, awkward position though it was. He shuddered as the last few threads of his claim to Harry spilled out.

A groggy Harry reached behind him, trailing up Draco's hip, then forward to Millie's to do the same. "While I'm not complaining about sleeping between you, I would really prefer if I could clean up first." Millie giggled and the sound was strange to him. Even Draco sat up on an elbow, hand on Harry's waist to look at her. He placed a kiss to Harry's shoulder and nodded into his skin.

"Go on, clean yourself up. I'll follow in a few." Making his way out from between them, he didn't notice the wince from Millie as she rolled onto her back or the appraising eye of Draco as he watched Harry's arse bounce off into the bathroom.

"You all right?" His words were hushed, but she heard them all the same.

"Yea, I'm okay."

"Aside from the sex, Millie."

"I will be."

* * *

The triad fell into an easy routine. Each morning, either Harry or Millie would make breakfast. Draco grumbled his way through and they took it as a compliment when his plate emptied quickly. Off to work, they separated at the floo with a quick goodbye and didn't reunite again until late in the evening. Dinner depended on the day; sometimes they cooked, other nights it was quick takeout from a nearby restaurant. After dinner, they usually retired to the lounge for a watch of something on the muggle telly Harry'd rigged to work with a few spells he and Hermione threw together. When they tired of the silence or one of them grew restless, the evening often turned toward other, more sensual activities.

They didn't force themselves on her. Instead, they waited for her to come to them. She knew her body and they did their best to listen. Quite often, sex was more about learning how to make sure Millie was leaving satisfied and not just performing her duty to the law. As they uncovered the secrets of each other's bodies, everything was brought into the light.

Hours were spent exploring each curve, angle, trail of hair, and scar. Harry's body told the loudest tale—his scars claiming darker enigmas than the others. While a few boyhood scrapes remained on Draco from quidditch and the odd tussle, his only permanent mark was the sectumsempra scar he received from Harry. That, in particular, was sensitive and his lovers made sure to exploit such an easy weakness. Of the three of them, Millie's body showed the fewest scars. That didn't mean she didn't have them; they were just harder to find.

For three months they continued like this. Three months of sharing each other in various ways. Three months of hoping that each time the pregnancy spell was cast on Millie, it would turn blue. Instead, they had to train their faces to remain hopeful, as she would turn away from them and seclude herself for a few days before returning to them with a whispered apology. In her absence, Harry and Draco lay together in tight embraces, whispering promises that might not mean anything in the face of Ministry demands and addendum B, subsection twenty-four. The pressure was building and with no answer among themselves, they began to look elsewhere.

* * *

"Are you sure the potion you've been brewing used the right number of lacewing flies?" Hermione's nose was nearly pressed to the page she was reading, so it was no wonder she couldn't see the incoming storm headed her way.

Harry stood, trying to hold him off, but it was no use. He did, however, get hold of the wand arm before it he sent off a spell he might regret. "Draco." He called the name, trying to keep him under control.

"Are you kidding me? I know you're a fucking Weasley now, but the least you could do is not act like one." She looked up then, eyes wide.

"Draco, you know I'm only asking because—"

"I don't care why you're asking. What I care about is that you have the bollocks to insinuate a lack of attention to brewing with something like this. Something that could lose me my fucking husband, Hermione!" Harry blushed and they all tried not to stare as Millie sucked her bottom lip in, her own cheeks reddening somewhat.

"I'm sorry, Draco. I didn't mean it that way." Harry was standing in front of Draco now, hands on either hip, whispering against his cheek. It took a quick kiss and a nod from Draco before the blonde stormed out of the library.

"He's just upset. He doesn't understand why the potions aren't working. We've tried several." Hermione nodded in understanding, but Millie shrank back in on herself, trying to be small when her presence overpowered that corner of the library.

The tawny owl that rested on the arm of her chair scooted closer to her, its wings flapping once before coming to rest comfortably against Millie's arm. She stroked the bird, more out of comfort for herself than for the bird. As she'd been doing all afternoon, Millie turned to look out of the window beside her to the woods. They glowed with the setting sun and she lost herself in the last rays of warmth coming through. She was holding off casting a warming charm. There was something to be said about feeling the changes in the earth, even if your toes weren't wriggling in its soil. Right then, she was content to feel the chill.

Chimes disrupted the room and Harry almost dropped the book he's holding. Draco walked back in the room and answered it before anyone else managed to get up. In the flames were the faces of Ron and Luna. He waved them through, muttering something about, "Blasted Weasleys," before moving away and pacing near the door.

"Hullo Harry. Oi Hermione. I didn't know you'd be here! Hullo Millie." Ron was cheerful and it lightened the mood somewhat. He turned around and waited for his wife to come through, catching her hands as she walked gracefully through the connection.

"Hello everyone. I'm glad to see you are doing well Harry. Draco. Millicent, you are particularly plagued by nimblyfinks today. Are you eating properly?" She walked somewhat awkwardly over to the chair beside Millie and plopped down, crossing her legs and pelting the poor woman with questions.

Ron took the break as his chance to see his best friends. With a grin, he turned to Harry. "Lovely, isn't she?" After seeing Harry's responding smile, he slapped the brunette on the back and pulled up a chair. "You haven't come round the burrow in a couple of weeks. Mum's been on a tirade about it."

"Sorry, Ron. We've been kind of… busy."

"I'm sure." He waggled his eyebrows.

"I wish that was all."

"Oh?" He was more serious now.

"We're researching fertility spells, Ron." Hermione felt it necessary to spare her friend the annoyance at having to explain himself. Apparently the Weasleys didn't have any issues in that department, considering Hermione and Luna were both pregnant in the first two months of marriage.

"Well what can I do, mate? Luna wanted to get out of the house. I'm here as long as you want me." Harry gestured to a stack of books they'd pulled from the library. The Potter Cottage library was an amalgamation of Grimmauld Place, Hermione's assorted leftovers (books that wouldn't fit on her shelves), and the books that Draco pulled from Malfoy Manor. They managed to scrape quite a few editions up with mentions of fertility, but nothing amassed to more than what they'd already tried.

"—my mother used one when the ministry was overwhelmed during the first war. That's how she conceived me. I'd been very difficult up until that point. There was just something about my mother's magic that I opposed until then."

"Do you know anything about it?" Millie's voice was quiet, hesitant.

"Of course I do. The rituals have been passed down through our family. I'm quite sure I know the ritual that will work for you, if you like." Luna spoke clearly, the light from the pale moon slanting across her face and allowing the shadows to play with the hollows there, creating a vision of haunting, ethereal beauty.

Across the room, Hermione scoffed. Everyone looked at her and she had the decency to blush, keeping her face down in her book. "What? Since when have rituals like that worked? I think we need to find the right spell, or maybe a different potion. I know we can find the answer, Harry." He looked up at her and the doubt was plain to see.

"I trust you Hermione. I've trusted you with my life, but we've been looking for two weeks now. We've tried countless potions, brewed by a _potions master_ ," said with emphasis just for Draco's bruised ego, "and still, we aren't getting anywhere."

"Have you, um… Are you both?" Ron's face matched his hair as he tried to get the words out.

"Yes, Weasley. We're both fucking her."

"Draco." It was sharp, but Millie got the point across. Draco rolled his eyes and resumed pacing.

"Oh, okay then." He went back to flipping pages.

"Would you consider the ritual, Millicent? If I'm correct, then it isn't you, or Harry, or Draco that is preventing you from conceiving." At Millie's raised eyebrow, she continued. "You are legally bound to them, but you did not willingly bind your magic to either wizard. In order for your body to combine your magic with theirs, your life essence to conceive a child, you need to willingly bind yourself to them. A fertility ritual will do that for you."

Millie nodded. She turned to Harry, who shrugged. Then her gaze drifted over to the pacing Draco, who stopped his maddening step to stare hard at her, grey eyes assessing the question she posed.

"Oh, fine. You two want to do it, I'll do it."

"Thank you, Draco." Millie rose, walked across the room, and kissed him chastely on the cheek. He closed his eyes as she did so, then allowed her to pass from the room with her dignity intact.

"This better work. We're running out of time." He pierced Luna with a skeptical glare then turned and left.

"I'm sorry, Luna. We're all a bit on edge right now." The left side of Harry's mouth quirked up in a tired smile.

"The three of you need to rest. If the ritual is going to work, your magical energy needs to be at its peak. There is a full moon four nights from now. Until then, I want the three of you to rest, make sure to get plenty to eat, and let your bodies relax."

"You aren't going to be there, are you?" She laughed, and it was a joyful, pleasant sound.

"No, Harry. This will be between the three of you. I will send over the things you need. In the meantime—lots of rest."

* * *

"Remind me why I agreed to help with this?" This was the second time Hermione asked Luna the same question in the span of five minutes. They hadn't even knocked on the cottage door.

"You are here to support your friends, Hermione. Just because they aren't doing this your way, does not mean they don't need you. Magic responds to many things. Negativity can affect this ritual, even if it isn't theirs." She did her best version of a glare and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'll keep that in mind." Hermione knocked on the door. Millie opened it and greeted both women with a gentle hug and a tired smile. "Where are the boys?"

"Getting ready at the manor. I kicked them out." She grinned at this, proud of herself.

"Let's just hope they aren't doing their own version of the ritual this afternoon."

"Absolutely not! I warned them that their bollocks would twist until they fell off if they did." Instead of a happy grin, Millie was plain smug. Luna beamed at her and nodded. At first, Hermione's mouth gaped open in shock, but then she doubled over.

"Are you okay?" Millie rushed over, gently putting a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Hermione, do you need a healer? Do we need to floo to St. Mungo's?"

Just then, they could hear her soft laughter. It grew until she dropped to her knees, eyes watering as she looked up at the two other women. "I-I can just imagine. I can imagine their faces," she paused here, trying to catch her breath. "Their faces when you told them no sex. Good one, Millie." Millicent and Luna looked to one another then back down at Hermione, who was clutching at her stomach in another silent fit of laughter.

"Are you sure you're okay? Did George give you something before you left?"

"No, no. I'm fine." She wiped her eyes, a goofy grin on her face. "What's this about a scented bath and oils?"

"This way." Millie turned, looked back to make sure both were following, then led them to the main bathroom. Once inside, she stepped toward the large sunken bathtub. There were several steps down from the floor and it could seat four people. Beside the bathing monstrosity was a rack with heated towels, scented oils, various bath salts, and an assortment of soaps. Luna walked over to peruse, mumbling to herself about cleansing the room of lingering wrackspurts.

"Are you ready, Millie?" Luna's soft voice trailed through the steam in the room as if heavy amongst the fog.

"Part of me wants this more than anything. Another part of me wants it all to go away. I'm not sure which part is winning right now." She was sitting on the edge of the bath, toes swirling in the warm water. Hermione knelt beside her with a flannel and lemon-scented soap.

"No one is ever ready to bond to another soul. You've already given yourself to one person and lost him. Now you're being forced to do it again—only now you have to split that between two wizards. I can't begin to imagine how you are feeling right now." Hermione's hand reached out, clasping the one resting open on Millie's thigh. "I am here for you, tonight. I am here to make sure that this is what you want." Her wide eyes stared into the nervous expression reflecting back at her. Millie took a deep breath, letting it out haltingly.

"I loved Greg. I still do. But, I think I love them too, in their own ways." Hermione nodded. Luna now stood to her other side. She reached forward and grabbed for the cloak about Millie's shoulders.

"Let's get you ready then, shall we? You've got two wizards waiting for you."

Between the two, Millicent's body was scrubbed of old days and the old ways. She lost herself in the fingers and hands of the women who tended her. Several times, she closed her eyes only to wake and find that they'd moved on to a different part of her body. Nothing was left untended. For that night, she was a clean thing, something pure and whole. Millie felt as if she'd been stripped bare of the last ten years and given a chance for something new.

As she stepped out of the bath, they dried her slowly with a large towel. Her body glistened with running droplets that maneuvered her curves and worked their way toward the inevitable fall to fate. Dry, the women used oil scented of lemongrass and orange. She smelled sweet and tangy and the robe they draped on her absorbed the scent quickly, allowing her to breathe its calming scent as she moved.

"Do you remember the circle?" Millie nods. "Then you're ready. We will leave you now. As soon as you see the moon, go and find your lovers." Luna's voice disappeared much like both women did. She was left alone to her thoughts and the long wait for moonlight.

* * *

"Will you sit down?"

"What the fuck are we doing, Harry?" Draco stopped his agitated pacing, the bare-footed steps across marble pausing. Harry moved to stand behind his husband, wrapped his arms so they fell around Draco's waist and clasped hands together in front of his belly. They were met with another set of hands, which squeezed them roughly. Together, the two men stared out of the window as they breathed in the last few minutes of quiet together.

"We are protecting ourselves. Our future. Millie. We're doing what we've always done."

"Oh?" Harry could almost see Draco's eyebrow lift from behind him. "And what's that?"

"Survive." He spun the blonde around so that he could look up into his eyes. "We're surviving, Draco." He captured the narrow lips in a brushing kiss, coming back for another and another. The repeated gesture broke him down and Draco fell apart in Harry's arms, kissing him back with hurried, frantic movements. Hands were everywhere—under shirts and in trouser bands, tugging at buttons and other, more sensitive things.

"Wait." Harry pulled back, leaning his forehead against Draco's now-exposed chest. "Millie will kill us. We have to wait." The growl that came in response was so tragically Draco that he chuckled, grinding himself against the erection pressing against his own. "Let's take a shower. Do what we're actually supposed to be doing right now." He trailed a hand up his husband's spine, feeling the body in his arms respond and shiver. Draco nodded.

Clothes were stripped on the way to the shower. There was no pretense of modesty between them. Everything was laid bare as they rid the day's filth from one another. Open-mouthed kisses, the aching scrape of teeth, a gentle lapping to the sensitive parts of the neck—these things they allowed themselves, but nothing more. They focused on making sure that each inch of their bodies was seen to, the foaming scent of pine in every crevice and along every surface. Perhaps it was easier for them, applying the oil, as their hands moved naturally over flesh that was well-mapped and responsive to just the right amount of pressure.

When they were done, huddled together in robes of deep onyx on a chaise that always felt out of place to Draco, they waited. The window through which they watched the stars appear spanned half the room. In some ways, it was comforting to see the blanket of sky and what hovered above them. Waiting right on the other side of the clouds was the tension and agitation of the ritual ahead. Draco pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead, whispering the words he hoped his husband didn't hear.

"I can't lose you, Harry Potter."

* * *

They appeared within moments of each other—the three of them standing bewildered and hesitant beneath the first glint of moonlight. Millicent was across the circle. She moved first. They mirrored her. Birch trees surrounded them, ghostly sentries as they walked toward one another in the moonlight.

Millie's robe was white. Her magic was pure and as yet her own. In contrast to that of the dark sheen surrounding the men before her, she glowed with the gossamer strands of each star as its light was shed on the earth. Their magic was already tethered, swirling between them in the dark chaos that was their bond. Three became one as they joined hands in the middle of the clearing. Wide eyes and deep breaths forced all of them to take in the moment. She looked first at Harry, who nodded, and then to Draco, who pursed his lips and dipped his forehead ever-so-slightly toward her.

There was a tightening of each hand she gripped as she began, "On the evening of a pure moon, I bring to you pure magic with a pure heart." Her lips struggled with the last few words, but she took a breath and went on. "I bond myself to you, Harry, and you, Draco, if you both shall have me. This I do willingly, and ask for you to do the same."

"On the evening of a pure moon, I bring to you the magic of a bonded man with a pure heart. I bond myself to you, Millicent, and again, always, to you Draco, if you both shall have me. This I do willingly, and ask for you to do the same." Draco's eyes flashed as he realized that the last piece of this puzzle, the final step, was his alone.

"O-on the evening of a pure moon, I bring to you the magic of a bonded man with a pure heart. I bond myself to you, Millicent, and always, to you Harry, if you both shall have me." His eyes were molten now as he stared directly at Harry. He could feel the bond with his husband tugging at his chest. His voice became soft, barely audible. "This I do willingly, and ask for you to do the same."

None of them moved. There was a distinct feeling of connection as the bond joined them as three, as one. Millicent could feel Draco's agitation; she could sense Harry's wild magic barely contained in his body. Both men could feel the waves of anxiety and power radiating off of their newly-bonded wife. After a minute, the magic calmed and everyone took a few deep breaths.

Harry looked up, meeting Millie's eyes and smiling softly to one another. Together, they let go of Draco's hands and surrounded him. Millie's easy kiss helped keep the lean frame from bolting as Harry reached around to unclasp the robe, dragging his fingers across Draco's flesh as he slid it slowly to the ground. Now completely exposed, Draco reached forward and did the same to Millie, trying to turn and do the same to Harry. Instead, Harry batted his hand away and turned him back around, maintaining a supportive presence at his back.

"Harry…"

"No, Draco. Tonight, we do what Millie wants. This is what she wants right now." Draco licked his lips, looking forward again to his wife. He rolled the word around on his tongue, silent and tasteless. She gave him a look of understanding and reached out slowly to trace his clenched jaw with thumb and forefinger. Her lips returned to Draco's, occupying him as Harry transfigured their cloaks into a blanket for them all to lay on.

They pushed Draco down, his body tense and rigid. He held himself up on elbows and toes. Millie slithered up his body to straddle his waist. Her tongue slowly slid across her bottom lip, her teeth pulling the crimson skin between gleaming white to linger there as she stared down at him. Hands were on Draco's thighs, then and the man jumped. Harry chuckled, gripping the toned legs and massaging there before working upward, ever upward toward the half-hard cock that waited just below Millie's arse. This, Harry ignored. Instead, his hands continued upward to the creamy flesh of Millie's hips, kneading and rubbing, gripping and claiming. Harry placed kisses to her shoulders and back that left impressions on her skin, the heat there lingering in his absence.

While Harry worked upward, around Millie from the back, she leaned forward and attempted to take one of Draco's nipples into her mouth. He gasped, arching upward. Their bond pulled taut and all three of them groaned at the awareness. Her mouth moved downward just enough to reach the scar that ran the breadth of his chest. She flicked her tongue across it once, then began twirling it up and over, around and along the raised skin that Draco was so reserved with. His body fell back to the ground, fists grasped tightly in the blanket. Millie moved with him. Harry moved with Millie.

When she had leaned forward enough to expose her body to him, Harry slid two fingers forward into her wetness. She shoved back onto him seeking out her pleasure. Harry inserted a third finger quickly and twisted, her head snapping back and up in a rapid intake of breath. He saw Draco's hands reach up and take hold of her arms to steady her. As Harry continued his slow massage of Millicent, he reached down and took hold of Draco. The man was fully erect, but he wanted to be sure they were both ready. He felt Millie's body begin to swell around his fingers, to spasm and clamp down. She cried out her release into Draco's mouth, who ate each sound hungrily.

In their pause, it was Harry who moved Draco so that he was rubbing at Millicent's entrance. He rubbed the head of that cock around, letting her recent orgasm coat him and the feel of him sent a shiver up her spine. She slowly sat back, taking Draco in. They moaned together, moving slowly for a minute before Draco forced himself to sit up, Millie in his lap. In this position, they rocked together, the angle deep. With each roll of her hips against him, each upward grind, she was not only dragging him across every sensitive part inside her, but using his body to nudge the most tender spot at each peak. Harry was no longer behind Millicent, but had crawled to the side of the couple, using his hands for extra stimuli. He flicked a nipple here, bit a shoulder there. Draco leaned over and they kissed for several moments, the continuous rocking of Millie fueling the pace and speed at which their tongues dueled.

At once, Draco pulled away. His lips were swollen and red. Silver eyes hazed with lust looked directly at Millie and grew hard as he tried to restrain himself. Her pace was increasing, soft moans coming on every thrust now. He breathed deeply, trying not to think about the woman on top of him or the man beside him as she rode him to orgasm. This time, when she came, she took him with her. He grunted, burying his face in her chest as he buried his frustrations, fears, and hope inside her. When she could breathe, she looked down and saw the quiet tears making their way to his stubborn jaw.

"Draco." She said his name like a prayer. He turned away, though he was still inside of her. "Draco, we will find a way." She held in her own emotions as she kissed the back of his turned cheek, feeling Harry's arms wrap around them both.

All too soon, she moved off of him to lay next to both men. Harry was behind Draco, whispering softly to him and holding the man he'd called husband for too short a time as tightly as he could. After a soft stroke of that platinum crest, Harry turned toward Millie.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Is he okay?"

"Yea."

"I wish it didn't have to be like this, Harry. I wish we could—"

"If wishes were dreams, right?" She nodded, looking down at her hands, then over to his naked body. She'd learned how to read him pretty well over the last few months. His body was eager, despite the overwhelming sense of foreboding. "Now or never, love." She tried to ignore the endearment, putting it aside as the situation and his unfailing gallantry. Plucking up the courage, she sat up on her elbows, smiled at him, and waited. He took the hint and made his way over, looking just once to see that Draco had turned over and was now watching with a hazy fire in his eyes.

Harry did not want to take his time. He did not want this to be drawn out and emotional. Looking to Millie, he could see the same questions reflected back at him. As he put a knee between her legs he leaned down to her ear and whispered, "Are you ready?" She reached down, grabbed him and stroked twice, quickly, roughly.

That was all the answer he needed. He pushed her thighs apart, took himself in hand and used the remaining juices from her previous orgasm to ease his way in. Once there, he was not gentle. He was not slow. His pace was punishing and from the sharp intake of breath followed by several harsh cries, he could tell that she was just on the pleasurable side of pain. Harry grimaced, trying desperately not to come too soon. He looked over to where Draco lay, which was most certainly a mistake. His husband was staring at the couple as they rutted, his hand stroking eagerly up and down his shaft. He was not lost in his own pleasure, however; instead, he was staring straight into Harry's eyes. That's when Harry lost it. Just a few more brutal snaps of his hips against Millie's thighs and he came, pulling out to collapse against her side with an exhausted grunt. She began running her fingers through his hair.

"I'm so sorry, Millie. I couldn't…" His voice faded out.

"I can feel it, too, Harry. You have nothing to be sorry for." He lifted his head, her fingers stilling.

"What do you mean?"

"What I feel for you—each of you… That is nothing compared to what you feel for each other. That can only come with time. Sometimes you need each other more than you need me, and that is okay. You need to know that I'm okay with that." Harry couldn't help but reach back for Draco, trying to pull him closer. The blonde eased over toward the pair. "Even though this bond was about bringing me into this relationship," she gestured to the two of them. "I could feel the existing bond strengthening, too. It's like there's… a secondary link to my bond with each of you. I know it's there. I can feel it, but it's not mine. It's part of me, through you, but it's yours."

Draco and Harry looked at one another. They shared a smile, a chaste kiss.

* * *

For a week, they tried to act as if nothing had changed, as if they weren't waiting to see if Millie was pregnant. It broke Harry first. Draco found him in the library, curled up in a large armchair with a book haphazardly tossed aside. His glasses were practically mangled on his face as they'd been smashed into his arm. The poor man looked exhausted. Puffy eyes and tear streaks running down his cheeks told Draco everything he needed to know. Gently, he removed the glasses from his husband's sleeping form, cast a quick repair spell, and tucked them into his pocket. He then cradled Harry's head in one arm while gathering his legs under the other. With no small amount of effort, Draco walked Harry upstairs to their bed. Millie caught sight of this and helped to pull the covers down, tucking him in. They walked out together, leaving Harry to rest in silence.

"I don't like seeing him like this."

"I don't either. I just don't know what to do. The spell won't show anything for another two days, Draco." The man in question was now nursing a glass of whiskey while pacing.

"Yes. And in the meantime, we're all falling apart here." His voice escalated, amber liquid sloshing about in front of him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he set the glass down. "I'm sorry, Millie."

"You don't think this is hard on me, too?"

"I know it is."

"No you don't!" She stomped toward him, snatched the drink and had it down before Draco could stop her. "I've already lost one husband. Now I have to face the prospect of losing TWO more. TWO, Draco. Do you even have any idea what that feels like?" Her hands flew upward, cupping her face as she lost it, sliding to the floor on her knees. Draco knelt down with her, wrapping his arms around the shaking woman.

"I am so sorry Millie. There is nothing else I can say. I don't understand what you're going through." She looked up at him now. They were quiet as everything sunk in. "They won't even have to dissolve our bond. If I can't be with him, I—Millie, I won't make it." She smiled, reaching out to hold one of his hands in hers.

"We're quite the pair, aren't we?" He huffed at her. "We both need him to be the strong one, but he's not doing so well right now."

"My golden boy never was very good at it." The goofy smirk was back. "Let's make a truce, all right?"

"I'm listening."

"If you promise to _not_ ingest alcohol while we're trying to get you, _or_ keep you pregnant, then I'll try to do a better job at being supportive. I know I'm shit at it." She laughed.

"That you are, Draco. That you are. Deal."

* * *

"I can't do it."

Hermione rolled her eyes, letting out a groan of frustration. They'd been going at this for nearly an hour and the trio couldn't determine who was going to cast the spell, nor who would have their eyes open to see what color it turned.

"What if it didn't work? I can't be responsible for telling you! You'll all be upset with me." Harry looked like he was about to have a panic attack. Thankfully Millie noticed and pushed him into a seat. Ron chuckled across the room and Hermione fixed him with a glare.

"Oh, would you all please SHUT UP?" She stood now, hands on her hips instead of tugging at the curls that escaped her ponytail. "I'll cast the bloody thing myself. I'll even put a blindfold spell on your wife so that she doesn't see anything I'm doing. How does that sound?" The words came out as exasperated as she felt and, by the looks on their faces, they knew it too.

"Yes, Hermione. That would be wonderful. Thank you." Millie was quiet, but she stood and walked out of the room. Together, the women entered the upstairs bedroom. Millie sat on the bed and Hermione stood directly in front of her.

"Do you want the blindfold spell or not?" She seemed to debate the answer, so Hermione cast it without giving her a chance to respond. If she didn't want it, Hermione would remove it anyway. "Ready?" There was a good bit of heavy breathing coming from the bed now, but Millie sat rigid with her fingernails dug into the comforter. "Conceptum exsero." Hermione was silent after casting the spell. Millie reached out until she collided with her arm, gripping tightly.

"Hermione? Hermione am I…?" A sharp light blinded her for a moment. She moved to cover her eyes before gasping as something clicked. The light was blue. The light was blue! She looked up to Hermione with the question in her eyes to see the other witch nodding excitedly in response.

"Congratulations, Millie." The newly-pregnant witch wrapped her arms around Hermione, quietly sobbing against her shoulder.

"Thank you. Thank you. Oh, Hermione. Thank you."

"It wasn't me. Quite the opposite, in fact. I think you owe Luna your thanks." Both women smiled. "Though she's a bit preoccupied with the twins right now." She laughed softly, thinking of Ron's bewildered look after the delivery. "Shall we go tell the boys?"

"They'll be so happy. They can stay together." Millie looked down at her stomach, still flat beneath her jumper.

"Millie. You listen to me right now. Those two idiots love you." Millicent smiled through her tears. "Now get your bum off that bed and let's go give them the best news of their lives."

Draco and Harry stood together looking out the window in the lounge. It was a grey day, but they held each other hoping to keep away some of the chill. As the soft pats of footsteps were heard coming down the stairs, both turned to wait for news. Hermione entered first. They could see the tearstains on her cheeks and she walked past them, allowing Millie into the room. Hermione sat next to Ron, who tried asking what happened while Millie made her way over to the window.

"What's wrong, love?"

"Is everything okay, Millie?"

Both were trying to talk to her at once and the tears started again. She couldn't contain them. They looked to each other and their faces fell. Harry turned into Draco and hugged him. They both reached out for Millie and pulled her close.

As she was drawn into their embrace, she whispered, ever so softly, "You're going to be fathers." There was silence. Neither man seemed to breathe for what seemed an eternity until she pulled back so that she could look them in the eye.

"Are—are you sure…?" She nodded.

"Draco, I'm going to be a dad. You're going to be a dad!" Harry let out a pent-up scream of emotion. It was raw and messy. Hermione gasped, then could only stare as she watched the other parts of his triad form a circle and surround the broken part of him with the broken parts of them. In this way, they became whole. Three, yet one.

* * *

Pregnancy was not easy on any of them. Each time something changed, the new fathers grew uneasy and called for a healer immediately. Millie indulged them in this. The healers at St. Mungo's knew her quite well by the time she reached her second trimester. With most of her morning sickness taken care of by Draco's enhanced potions, she was left to requesting odd food cravings late at night and encouraging as many foot rubs as they would give. Harry was certainly more obliging than Draco of these quirks, but he tried. Often, there were questions of whether she really needed that chocolate truffle at two in the morning while Harry rolled out of bed to get one from the stash in the cupboard.

Her body grew into something foreign. It changed and morphed into a sacred vessel that was so treasured by those around her that she feared mishandling it. One evening, she stumbled on the stairs and took a hard fall to her hip. She was immediately whisked away to hospital to verify that no one was injured. Both of her husbands pressured her into a week's worth of bed rest, even though she only had a mild bruise. This amused her—the first time.

Hermione and Luna were a much-needed reprieve from the overbearing figures she lived with. They brought over little Fred, Ivan, and Ivanna. She was allowed hours of laughter, conversation that didn't involve the words "birth" or "pregnancy," and even some gossip from the wizarding world outside of what her husbands thought to bring her. To say she enjoyed this time was an understatement.

When her water broke, Harry was the only one home. He immediately went into panicked-father mode. Millie cast the patronus charm she'd been practicing, courtesy of said husband, and sent it off to Draco at the shop. He stumbled through the floo in a matter of minutes. She'd never seen him stumble through anything, so it gave her a bit of a chuckle.

"Why aren't you at St. Mungo's yet? Harry, why is she still here?"

"Ask her that. She wouldn't go without you."

"I was not going to give birth to our child without both of my husbands present. Now if both of you will grab yourself by the bollocks, we can get this done." They stared at her blankly until a contraction hit and she nearly fell to the ground. Draco caught her, Harry grabbed the pre-packed "baby bags" and they scarpered as quickly as they could.

Millie labored for nearly seven hours. The entire time, she refused pain potions. Draco and Harry jokingly told her they took one each for the screeching and possibly broken—okay maybe only slightly bruised hands they were sporting. It was worth it. It was all worth it when Millie went quiet, her body tired, breathing heavily. They waited as the healer turned away from all of them with the baby in her arms. A little wail came from around the healer's robes and Draco felt his heart drop into his feet. Harry was rapidly whispering into Millie's forehead over and over again how brave she was and how much he loved her.

"Congratulations, everyone. You've a son." Harry's guttural cry was anguished. He fell forward onto Millie's chest, where it was her turn to stroke through his hair and tell him that everything was all right. The baby was all right. When he sat up, he tried wiping tears from his face before walking toward the healer.

"Can I?"

"He's yours. Of course." She swaddled the child in a gentle green blanket before placing him in Harry's arms. Draco waited, unsure if he should stay with Millie or go toward Harry and their child.

Millie nudged him. "It's okay. Go see him."

When Draco approached, Harry beamed. The little boy cradled there in his arms had just a slight spattering of golden peach fuzz on the top of his head. His eyes were closed, but for the moment he was content. Harry maneuvered the baby out of his arms and out toward Draco. At first, the other man looked confused. Harry laughed and talked him through it. Draco was completely overwhelmed. He turned away from his husband and wife, looking down at the little life in his arms.

"Look at you. We did it. You did it. Because of you, I don't have to lose any of them. Thank you." He placed a kiss to the child's forehead, breathing deeply for the first time in nearly a year.

* * *

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	14. The Laws of Wolves

**Wordsmiths & Betas Marriage Law One Shot Writing Competition**

\- Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. You will find this information at the bottom of each entry. Thank you for reading!

 **Title: The Laws of Wolves**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Romance, Angst**

 **Pairing: Millicent Bulstrode / Fenrir Greyback**

 **Triggers: None**

 **Warnings: References to violence**

 **Disclaimer:** All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the authors represented here are profiting from these stories.

* * *

 **The Laws of Wolves**

* * *

I do not love thee!—yet thy speaking eyes,  
With their deep, bright, and most expressive blue,  
Between me and the midnight heaven arise,  
Oftener than any eyes I ever knew.  
– Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton (I Do Not Love Thee)

* * *

"We don't have to do this, Millie," Blaise said, searching Millicent's distant expression for some hint of what her thoughts on the matter could be. But her eyes were like the deep sea, fathomless and full of mystery. She was watching the rain fall against the window glass, the trails of water pooling down the glass in fractured patterns. Outside, the afternoon sky was lit afire by strikes of lightening. Millicent was transfixed.

The pair were sitting in the Zabini family library but Blaise knew his friend's mind was really somewhere else altogether. More than once since she had come to live with him it occurred to Blaise that there may be no crossing the cavern that had grown in their friendship. She was a world apart from him.

"I know," Millicent said faintly. There was a long silence between them.

"You were matched with plenty of other blokes," Blaise said but she cut him off.

"But none of them are you," she replied with a small smile, finally turning to the young man. He could see her pain for a fleeting moment before she hid it behind a mask of feigned playfulness. "Besides didn't we always say we would end up married anyways?"

"Yes when we were eleven," he said flatly. "Things have changed since then."

And clearly they had. Prior to the Battle of Hogwarts Millicent had disappeared before the start of their 7th year. She had pledged herself to Lord Voldemort who had then given her over to Fenrir Greyback and his pack. He recalled the night they said their good-byes.

Millicent had told her best friend very little of what happened in that time she was gone.

He was not even sure she was still alive until one day she showed up on his doorstep trembling and stained with blood and dirt. She looked absolutely feral and in truth, for her entire first week with him she said very little. Even now, Blaise could see there was something different about the woman he had known since before the Sorting Hat had called them Slytherins.

The Wizarding Family Restoration Act informally known as the marriage law was the Ministry's answer to a mounting problem in a dwindling wizarding population after the war. Some regarded it as a throwback to archaic pureblood rituals, others considered participation, while still in the early voluntary stages, a patriotic duty. The aristocratic pureblood circles had been quick to be the first to offer up their eligible children, out of either appearances or simply because they had suffered the most from low-birth rates.

For their part, Blaise and Millicent had been indifferent to the prospect of marriage itself but the idea lent itself some advantages. Both wanted to maintain a level of social decorum but for different reasons.

"You still haven't told me why you want this," Blaise pressed. "You _abhor_ the institution of marriage"

"And you _abhor_ sex with women," Millicent replied cheekily. "Why should either of these details matter?"

"So that's it then? We will just do whatever it takes to keep up appearances?" Blaise asked with a raised brow. He knew what he gained from their arrangement namely some relief from his parents about marrying a girl of 'good standing'. What remained hard for him to decipher was what his friend benefited from it.

"We are quite good at that sort of thing," Millicent said. It was true she wore the ornate gowns befitting a woman of her stature, fine jewelry adorning her neck and ears, she even agreed to wear the Zabini heirloom ring as her engagement ring at her soon to be mother-in-law's request. Her voice had the practiced air of a true Slytherin princess. But Blaise could see pass the ruse. He saw the wild spirit she kept tamed behind the guise of a wellborn witch. This was the same girl who used to brawl with boys who made fun of her, the type of witch that had no interest in the typical hobbies of other Slytherin ladies. While her peers were grooming themselves for finding a proper suitor, Millicent was craving an adventure.

With others Millicent donned cordiality like a kabuki mask but she occasionally dropped the pretenses with him. If only long enough for Blaise to realize he hadn't the faintest idea who she was anymore.

In truth, Millicent didn't know who she was anymore either. The labyrinth of secrets and memories that occupied her mind sometimes felt like a lonely prison. She was still reframing her identity as an adult in the Wizarding world, a place she had essentially left at eighteen-years-old. Although she did not dare say it aloud, she missed the simplicity of living with werewolves among other things.

 _I wonder if I will ever feel at home in this world again,_ she thought as she left Blaise behind in the library room. She wandered down the vacant hallways with nothing but the sound made steady click of her heels on the marble floor echoing in her stride. It seemed like a lifetime ago she had pledged her fidelity to Lord Voldemort and consequently order to live with the werewolves. It had felt like a death sentence at the time. She remembered the cold march through the forest trees, silently treading behind Bellatrix Lestrange with the solemnity of a young woman going to meet her fate.

She was to be the proverbial lamb to wolves _._ Except the meeting she made was not the one she had imagined. Fate, rather, took the form of a fierce wild man who stole her heart. Nothing was ever the same again the night she met Fenrir Greyback.

Suddenly, she was struck by the memory of his captivating blue eyes and that devilish grin.

Millicent's heart squeezed in her chest at the thought of him and the sensation nearly took her breath away. She panicked and quickened her pace until she found a set of doors that took her outside into the garden. She exhaled hard as she crossed the threshold, letting the violent rain pelt her body.

She removed her shoes and stockings until there was nothing between her bare feet and the earth. Millicent closed her eyes and invited the drum of the storm to drown out the chaos of her mind.

 _Run, keep running,_ a voice deep within commanded. _Find him, find him, find him._ It was the wolf begging for a release. Suddenly her skin felt very warm and when Millicent opened her eyes their once sea blue hue had shifted to a bright amber. She could feel her wolf side rising to the surface, it's magic a part of her.

She quelled the urge to follow the tug of the creature's instincts knowing that any search would be in vain. Fenrir had disappeared after the final battle at Hogwarts. Although many presumed he was dead, she knew better.

Oh how she loathed Fenrir. It was a hatred born of heartache, a pain that only seemed to grow with time.

Millicent would have sensed her mate's death. Their bond was still intact, their magic intertwined whether she wanted it to be or not. But after nearly nine years of searching for him she reached a very difficult conclusion to swallow: Wherever Fenrir had gone he most surely did not want to be found.

"MISS!"

Millicent blinked, turning to see a very shocked trio of house elves peering at her from the doorstep. The one that had called to her ran forward and grabbed her hand, tugging her inside to dry warm interior of the Zabini manor.

"Miss Bulstrode shouldn't be standing outside in a storm!" The wide-eyed creature exclaimed with a worried tone. "Get very sick she will."

Mililcent nodded absently, glancing up at a mirror hanging in the hallway. She was a mess. Millicent observed as the amber shade of her eyes seep back into their normal color, the wolf inside her retreating from the surface of her conscience. One of the house elves guided her back to her room, taking away her wet clothes to be cleaned.

As she changed into a fresh gown she couldn't help but look down at the faint bite mark on her arm, the silver outline of marred flesh serving as a reminder of the secrets in her closet. The mark was but of many scars on her body that had grown faint with time, all telling stories of battles won and lost.

At dinnertime, Millicent joined Blaise along with his parents and a handful of the older couple's friends. The dining room was an extravagant hall with gilded wallpaper and a charmed ceiling that housed painted clouds and cheeky cherubs that moved through their landscape on feathery wings. Millicent sat beside Blaise in mostly silence, nodding and smiling along with whatever inane conversation the other individuals were participating in.

 _I am going to need more wine for this charade,_ she said silently to herself as she took another long sip from her glass.

Abruptly she was forced to engage when Mrs. Zabini's friend, an elderly witch by the name of Matilda Hitchens asked her a question.

"Pardon me?" Millicent asked when she realized she had not been paying attention.  
"We were just discussing the recent werewolf attacks that are going on in the north. Dreadful business, wouldn't you agree?" Mrs. Hitchens asked with a scrutinizing look.

"I wouldn't know much about it ma'am," Millicent answered. "Who knows the whole truth."

She knew most reportings of werewolf attacks were misreported, whether out of political motivation, Department of Magical Creatures corruption or simply ignorance. When a werewolf attacked it was typically out of self-preservation or retaliation. At least that was how it had been when she was a pack alpha.

For the sake of staffing off the argument, she did not say this.

"But isn't it true you lived with those creatures?" The old woman said, "Surely you can testify to their savagery?"

"Quite frankly, I don't think you know the first thing about them," Millicent said with a low deadly voice.

The rest of the dinner guests grew very quiet as the tone of the room shifted. Millicent made a carefully exercised motion as she set her glass down, fearful that her billowing rage might cause her to shatter it with her bare hand.

"Out of respect for what my betrothed has suffered, we refrain from asking her about such things," Blaise said and gave Millicent an intervening glance. For her part, Millicent hid her seething anger behind a demure nod as if to appear that such a line of questioning was difficult to withstand.

Seemingly satisfied with this response the old witch went back to her conversation with Mrs. Zabini about the latest collections at Madam Malkin's. Meanwhile, a feral side of Millicent spent the rest of the night imagined cutting the old woman's throat.

That night Blaise escorted her back to her room down the hallways of the ancient manor. "I know there things you don't want to tell me," the young man said eventually when he knew they were out of earshot of his family and their guests. "We have been best friends for so long and obviously a lot has happened but… I hope you know I will always be here for you, Millie."

"I know," Millicent said and gave him a tight hug. "I am so lucky to have you."

And in that moment Millicent almost wanted to tell him everything. About Fenrir and their pack and all of the events that lead her to his doorstep. She could sense Blaise's hurt at being shut out and she wished things could go back to the way they once were between them.

But something held her back, perhaps it was the weight of the words or the wolf instincts she now possessed that told her he wasn't one of them and that he would not understand the world she belonged to now.

When Millicent laid down to sleep that night she was greeted by the same dreams that always waited for her eyes to close.

 _She was standing in the dense forest that she had once called home. It was summertime, the air pungent with the scents of wild flowers woven in her plaited hair. Millicent had traded her heavy winter cloak for a soft gauzy dress, bare feet stepping over fallen trees and the mossy grass of the forest floor._

 _At the end of the long and winding path, he was standing there. No matter how many times she revisited this moment each and every night, the sight of her lost love still took her by surprise. In her dream, Fenrir looked happy as he extends his arms to embrace her. But even as she knew what happened next (because it always happened in this particular scene of the dream)—she ran to him as fast her legs could take her._

Just before she reached him, he was suddenly gone and the peace of the forest was replaced by the smolder and ash of Hogwarts afire. She was standing in the chaos of the final battle as the bright lights of spells crackled in each and every direction. Her white summer dress was now stained with ashes as she struggled to get her bearing among deafening noise of the war waging on around her.

She was nearly taken out by a hex aimed at her by some Gryffindor girl. The name escaped her but as she raised her wand towards Millicent again Fenrir darted across the corridor and struck her with a lethal swipe. Partially shifted between forms, the werewolf didn't hesitate to take out the young woman that had threatened Millicent's life only a moment ago.

 _Millicent wasn't close enough to help when he was thrown from the window by the force of a spell. She screamed out in desperation but there was nothing she could do as he plummeted into the darkness of the night._

She woke with a start, clutching the sheets in terror as she bit back urge to sob. She was afraid that if she allowed the tears any freedom she might never stop crying.

" _Lumos,"_ she whispered as she picked up the wand by her bedside. A soft glow emitted from the tip of it. Millicent looked around the room to see that it had indeed been a dream, a ritual she had developed after so many times of revisiting the same dreadful scene. Outside her window she could see the hint of sunlight rising across the hills.

 _I survived another night,_ she thought to herself.

Survival was something Millicent was quite accustomed to. In the animal kingdom it was survival of the fittest and among the werewolves it was just the same. But really this life as an aristocratic witch required its own set of survival skills as well. Strangely, this was one of those areas that Millicent preferred pack life . Fighting for one's rank and hunting for meals in the harsh wilderness was more comfortable for Millicent then the social customs of mingling with the pureblood high circles.

Millicent had been awake for several hours by the time the rest of the residents at Zabini Manor rose for the day. While she waited for others to join her for breakfast, a House Elf delivered a letter.

"What's this?" She asked the peculiar little creature.  
"An owl delivered it this morning for Miss Bulstrode," it squeaked in reply. Millicent nodded, surprised to be receiving any mail at all. Since her return to civilization the young woman had kept mostly to herself. It wasn't as though she had many friends prior to her departure from the Wizarding world. But she was intrigued by the black matte envelope all the same and saw that it was in fact addressed to her.

When she turned it over she recognized the embossed seal of the Warrington family crest on the envelope fold. She opened the piece of mail to find an extravagant linen paper invitation:

MISS MILLICENT A. BULSTRODE IS CORDIALLY INVITED TO THE WARRINGTON FAMILY MASQUERADE BALL, HOSTED BY MR. AND MRS. CASSIUS WARRINGTON. THE EVENT WILL BE HELD AT THE GRAND MERLIN HALL ON OCTOBER 12th.

 _BLACK DRESS ROBE ATTIRE. RVSP BY OWL NO LATER THAN SEPTEMBER 25_ _th_

"I see you got your's too," Blaise said as he sat down beside her. A house elf brought them both cups of steaming hot tea and a plate of fruit. Millicent plucked a grape from the plate and ate it.

"I haven't seen Cassius in years; I didn't know he had gotten married," Millicent replied, remembering the Slytherin upperclassman. He had been a bit of slow-witted boy but an impeccable Quidditch player.

"They got married this past year actually," Blaise said, "you are going to laugh when you hear _who_ he married."

"And who is the lucky lady then?"

"Pansy."

"No bloody way!" Millicent exclaimed in shock. Blaise laughed while telling her to shush. They both knew such language was not acceptable among high-born wizards and witches and they both knew his mother would have a conniption if she heard Millicent cursing.

"But they absolutely loathed each other in school," Millicent said with a conspiratorial whisper, although they both were aware that when it came to match-making personal preferences were of little consequence to purebloods. "Like I think Pansy would have preferred even Gregory Goyle over Cassius."

"Well funny you should mention that. Rumor has it that when her family heard about the marriage law coming into effect they quickly had her tested to see who she would best match with," Blaise said. "You know, to see if there was any advantageous matches."

"Naturally," Millicent said with an eye roll.

"It gets better. Her results were in fact Goyle, as well as that Weasley prat and a very lively mandrake."

"That's not funny!" Millicent said even though she couldn't help but laugh.

"Quite frankly I think her and the mandrake would have made it work."

Millicent was still laughing when a slow smile appeared on Blaise's face. When the witch could finally contain her giggles, she raised a questioning eyebrow. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I haven't heard you laugh in a long time," he replied. "It's nice."

Millicent had been embarrassed to admit that Blaise was right. She _hadn't_ laughed in ages. She was thankful for her dear friend. Even though she felt continually out of sorts walking amongst wizards again, he kept her grounded.

"I don't know why you would want to wear something _old,"_ Blaise said as they sifted through one of his mother's enchanted closets later that day. They were inside one of the abandoned rooms at the Manor used to house Mrs. Zabini's collection of dresses and jewelry. As a lifelong socialite the older woman had amounted an impressive collection of couture gowns, dazzling robes and dresses from all around the world

"Vintage is all the rage, dah-ling," Millicent said with a mocking drawl. In truth she had no desire to go shopping at Diagon Alley although it was not for lack of money. The Bulstrode vaults were still in her name and with that her family's mass fortune. "Besides every girl in Slytherin dreamed of seeing your mother's famous closet back in the day. Don't act like you aren't having a smidge of fun."

"I'm not," he said flatly.

Millicent chuckled as she disappeared into a sea of dresses hung in alphabetical order, first by designer then by season. Mrs. Zabini was nothing if not well-organized. She let her hands run across each garment as she took in each texture and pattern. Millicent was deep within the labyrinth of the closet when she heard a rustle of movement. Assuming it was Blaise hiding with the intent to startle her Millicent a knowing smirk crossed her lips but as she turned the corner her smile immediately fell.

There was blood pooling on the floor, flowing towards her slowly in a sickening river. Fenrir's vacant dead eyes stared back at her, unseeing. She let out a gasp and stumbled backwards. His handsome face was broken, pale and covered with bruises. She screamed in anguish, her emotions overriding her ability to reason that it surely couldn't be him.

Even her heightened sense of smell which told her that it wasn't real couldn't convince her mind of the truth of what she saw in front of her. Upon hearing her, Blaise darted through the cavernous racks of clothing until he came upon her collapsed on the floor with her eyes tightly shut close.

Blaise quickly retrieved his wand, shouting " _Riddikulus_!" at the image before them. Suddenly the body of Fenrir Greyback disappeared into the form of small puppy. It barked playfully before slinking into the shadows. The wizard helped her to her feet while silently cursing the Boggart, making a mental note to call for pest control.

Millicent didn't say a word as she tried to collect herself. For a long while they simply sat in silence side by side. In all their time as friends Blaise couldn't recall ever seeing her cry, not even at her mother's funeral or when Bellatrix took her away to be thrown to the werewolves.

 _Werewolves._

Blaise hesitated with what he wanted to say. He had never asked her about her time with the werewolves but he had gleaned some details. For awhile now he had fought between wanting to give his friend privacy but he could see how her past tormented her and she was far too stubborn to seek any help. It wasn't until seeing the Boggart's manifestation that Blaise realized that Millicent's past may be more complex than he had imagined.

"Millie, about the Boggart…"

"I don't want to talk about it," she said and waved off his concern. Millicent straightened her posture, trying to regain her composure. Blaise could tell she putting up her mental wall again and he was going to lose his chance.

"I know you don't," he said. "But as your friend I think you should. Whatever it is, I can see it is slowly killing you."

Millicent said nothing.

So Blaise decided to fill the conversational void. "I thought at first that the werewolves tortured you. In fact when you were sent away it kept me awake at night thinking you were being hurt and I was too much the coward to even save you."

"Oh Blaise…" Millicent said but he cut her off.

"You were always the brave one, Millie. But now I realize that's not what happened at all, right? Because what I think is really you found your home out there. It's why you didn't return to us after the war. And Greyback," Blaise said, pausing before he asked. "You loved him didn't you?"

And it was the question Millicent wasn't sure she was prepared to answer. She looked down, hands fidgeting with the hem of her blouse because she couldn't commit the words to reality. "Something like that," she murmured, still unsure she was ready to fully acknowledge the pain in her heart. Was it _loved,_ as in past tense? Or did she _still_ love him.

It was a particular detail Millicent hadn't yet decided but she felt it didn't matter. The object of her affection had disappeared from her life.

Millicent took a deep breath before leveling her gaze with him. "There is something I want to show you."

* * *

Even without a calendar, Millicent could tell what phase of the moon lit the night sky. It called to her like it did with everyone one of her kind. It's magic mingled with her own and the weight of its power grew stronger and stronger until the evening air felt like it was buzzing with an energy so heavy it felt nearly tangible.

"You haven't explained what we're doing out here," Blaise said. They were standing in a clearing, the distant lights of the Zabini Manor shrouded by an army of tall trees.

Millicent smiled. "You will see in a moment, just promise not to panic."

And before Blaise could inquire further Millicent's skin was suddenly glowing under the light of the moon. She inhaled and doubled over, breathing through the sensation overcoming her body as it transformed. The sound that erupted from her throat wasn't human, a piercing howl carving into the night like a knife. Millicent's dress laid in shredded pieces, the witch gone and now replaced with a large ethereal creature.

The wolf standing in front of Blaise was black but under the bright glint of the moon he could see it wasn't a true black but rather a deep auburn tinged with red. Her eyes were glowing amber from the magic of the transformation pulsing in her blood. Slowly the glow faded from her eyes.

"Merlin's beard," were the only words that Blaise could summon in his amazement. If he had not seen her transform before his eyes Blaise wasn't sure he would believe that the creature in front of him was actually Millicent. "It's really you, isn't it?"

She stepped cautiously closer, nodding her large canine head in silent acknowledgement.

"Wow," he breathed in wonder, but Millicent in her current form could also smell his fear. Thankfully, Blaise was far more curious then he was afraid. "Not what I was expecting a werewolf to look like at all. It's a good look for you. Just…please don't bite me."

The wolf playfully bowed to signify she meant no harm to her slightly bewildered friend. Millicent felt happy in her skin for the first time since the last moon. The freedom of her wolf form left her feeling light, released from the cluttered thoughts that plagued her.

But suddenly something tugged at her senses and demanded her attention. The canine's ears perked forward in full alert as she tried to focus on what it was that had piqued her interest. A small gust of wind from the east carried with it a faint scent. The familiarity of it made her tail twitch, her instincts instructing her to follow it. Her human rationale typically took a back seat on these moonlit evenings but tonight it argued for her to ignore the call.

 _It's not him,_ _it can't be him._ This voice tried to assure her. But the wolf was louder and with only a quick parting glance to Blaise, the shewolf took off in a prenatural speed into the night. She ran as fast and as far as her four paws would take her, stopping only every so often to sniff the air. _It was him. It had to be him._

The desperation in her stride carried her for many miles before exhaustion halted her completely. The wolf collapsed, letting the wet earth cool her. She whined, feeling frustrated by the aimless chase. She had been searching for him for years and wondered if perhaps her heartache had tricked her senses this time? Had she finally been driven mad completely?

Yet the thread that bound the two souls together still vibrated and for the first time in a long while it felt as though he were near.

She could _feel_ him. But then, where was he?

As the moon waned and prepared to leave her night sky kingdom, Millicent let out a booming howl and the sound echoed for a while. _If you hear this, my love, please let me know_ , was what it said.

Shortly after, in the distance Millicent was sure she could hear a faint howl in reply saying only this: _Wait for me._

"It's actually a bit clever, my dear," Blaise remarked as Millicent exited her room wearing her attire for the masquerade ball. She donned a gorgeous ball gown that had been hand-embellished with ornate obsidian beading along the corset-fitted bodice. The entire outfit had been accessorized with a black lace mask and a complimenting crimson cloak. "Although I am pretty sure little red riding hood wasn't a werewolf."

"And who's to say she didn't have a few secrets?" Millicent said with a wink and they both laughed.

Blaise offered his arm and no sooner did she take it were they whisked away by Side-Along Apparation, reappearing on the footsteps of the Grand Merlin Hall. Couples all around them appeared, each of them walking inside with eager anticipation. Millicent became nervous at the sight of so many unfamiliar faces and she resisted the urge to flee from the scene.

Sensing his friend's discomfort, he patted her hand reassuringly. "We don't have to stay long, Millie. But it would be good for appearances if we at least attended."

"I'm fine," she said and arms linked they walked into the ballroom where the lively party had already begun. The host and hostess were at the door ready to greet the arriving guests and as Blaise and Cassius shook hands, Pansy's eyes shot open wide with surprise at the sight of Millicent.

"MILLIE!" She squealed in delight. "I cannot possibly believe it's you! Oh how I have missed you so much darling!"

Millicent reciprocated the warm greeting with a mustered smile, "Pansy you have not changed one bit."

"Ah but I have!" Pansy exclaimed as she extended her hand to display the large gaudy diamond ring on her finger. True to Pansy's nature, it seemed to matter less that she was married to a boy she had despised in school when such marriage had given her a very expensive ring. "And I hear you and Blaise are next! I expect a wedding invitation!"

Their conversation was cut short by the next arrival of guests entering the hall. The hosts properly distracted, Blaise and Millicent made their way into the expansive ballroom. The mirrored ceiling was slightly disorienting at first as the orchestra played and the sight of dancing partners reflected on its surface.

"Shall I get us drinks?" Blaise offered.  
"Yes, please," she answered hastily. As Blaise left Millicent wandered into a throng of people, nodding politely in greeting to the fellow masked party guests. She was grateful she didn't recognize anybody. Nor did anyone seem to know her for the matter, which meant she was absolved from much social interaction.

She made her way to the patio, breathing in the cold refreshing air as though she had been starved for oxygen after only a brief moment inside.

"You never much cared for parties." Millicent's heart stopped at the sound of a familiar voice breaking her peace, "are you waiting for the big bad wolf?"

She spun on her heel so fast she nearly knocked into the last man she expected to see at the ball. Or anywhere for that matter.

"That's a really cheesy pick-up line," she said faintly but lost track of her words as she fully realized the vibrant azure eyes staring back at her belonged to Fenrir. For so long she had only her memories and the nightly dreams to remind her of what he looked like. But standing before her now in the flesh and blood, it felt as though Millicent was looking at a ghost. A mirage. She expected him to disappear if she dared to blink.

"Hello love," he said with the slow cambering smile that even now made her knees go weak. He gave a gentlemanly bow but the gesture seemed foreign. Millicent's heart was racing even as her mind denied his existence.

 _I must be going mad,_ she thought and couldn't find the words to speak. There was a flash of emotions vying for their place in her mind: shock, anger, joy.

"Is it really you?" Millicent eventually whispered, still reeling.

He was dressed in fine linen robes, his blonde hair pulled back in a plait. Despite the difference in attire, Fenrir looked just the same as she had always remembered him. He took her hand and kissed it, "it is."

"What are you doing here? Where have you been," she asked, bombarded with an onslaught of questions that needed to be asked.

"I am sorry I kept you waiting for so long," he said.

" _That's it?_ That is all you have to say for yourself?" She snarled. The wolf within her raged, fueled by the intensity of her emotions. Millicent had imagined their reunion down to every minute detail for years but now it felt strange.

Mostly because it didn't feel even remotely real.

"You will have to do much better than that, Fenrir." She said and the other werewolf's smile faltered.

"It wasn't easy for me to stay away," he said, "but I had to. I had to keep _you_ safe. After the war it wasn't just the ministry hunting me but enemies far worse…"

"Save it, it doesn't matter now. I am getting married at the end of November," she said defiantly. "I would have preferred a bit more time for preparations but this marriage law business-"  
 **  
**"The laws of wizards have no bearing on us," Fenrir interrupted matter-of-factly. "We are wolves, the pack code is our law."  
 **  
**"To hell with pack code, you _abandoned_ me. I was your mate!" She replied. All the pain she had kept inside boiled over now.

"You still are," he said quietly. Millicent said nothing in return. "How long do you think you can carry on pretending?" Fenrir asked, tilting his head with mock curiosity. "A few months? No, you are stubborn. Probably a couple years if you have the will for it. This isn't where you belong. It will only be a matter of time before the forest calls you home."

"The only home I ever needed was you, Fenrir," she snapped with tears in her eyes. "And _you_ left me."

"It was for your own safety," he repeated and reached to brush her tears away. She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek into the palm of his hand. Millicent realized that she had nearly forgotten the feeling of his rough skin against her own and it felt like a rock in the pit of her stomach.

And instantly Millicent knew she had already forgiven him because she had forgiven him the moment her eyes had laid upon him.

His lips were on her own and it was like his kisses seared away the suffering she had endured waiting for his return. She melted into his arms while her hands raced up underneath his shirt, seeking out every inch of him like fingers on a familiar map. The wolf within her recognized her mate and demanded more of him.

They broke apart, breathing heavily. Fenrir had his arms around her still and she could see the same wanting ache in his eyes.

"Come with me," he said.  
Even though she wanted nothing more to do so Millicent shook her head, "There is still something I have to do first."

* * *

"Where will you go?" Blaise asked after Millicent explained. They were standing at the edge of the forest again, just like they had the night she revealed herself to him. The wizard was both confused and concerned, visibly afraid for his friend's well being.

"I don't know," she said and he could see there was peace in her expression that had not been there for some time. "But that's alright."

"I will miss you, Millie."  
"I will miss you too," she said and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You deserve to be happy, Blaise. I don't think I ever told you that but it is very important you know. Please promise me you won't settle for less?"

"You mean you won't stick around to see the scandal when I tell mother I prefer blokes?" Blaise said with a smile. They laughed and he added "I promise" before giving Millicent a tight squeeze.

"It feels like the night you left to live with the werewolves all over again," Blaise admitted.

"It's not the same, Blaise," she said gently. "I am finally going home."

And so it was like in her dreams, Millicent walked down the forest path just as she had done so many times before. Fenrir was at the end of it, waiting patiently for her.

Only this time when he finally held her there was no letting go.

Millicent was _free._

* * *

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	15. The Whole World

Wordsmiths & Betas Marriage Law One Shot Writing Competition

\- Please respect the author's wishes in regards to reviews. You will find this information at the bottom of each entry. Thank you for reading!

Title: The Whole World

Rating: M

Genre: Horror

Pairing: Surprise

Triggers: Murder, Mutilation of a Corpse, Torture

Warnings: Sex, Grief, Injury, OOC (main), Very Dark

Disclaimer: All canon characters, plots and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. None of the authors represented here are profiting from these stories.

* * *

The Whole World

* * *

Part One

Aftermath

* * *

The air surrounding the courtyard was thick; with dust and magic and death. Maybe this was death, she mused as her gaze drifted over uncountable piles of grey stone and dead bodies rife with bloodstains and scorch marks; perhaps this was some clichéd form of Hell.

A deep cut was grooved into the palm of her left hand; strange, her thoughts voiced as she drew the injured appendage closer to her face as she lazily scrutinised the dirt-strewn laceration, it doesn't hurt, the realisation of which, if anything, only lent more weight to the argument that she was very possibly dead.

She had absolutely no understanding as to how long it had been since she'd crouched down, at some unknown point in time. Does time even exist anymore? She had acknowledged to herself that she was, in fact, not standing, as she'd previously believed to be the case, but positioned on her knees. And in fact, the more she reflected, she had no knowledge of how she'd come to be at this particular part of the courtyard, considering the last she remembered she had been surrounded by friends: friends who their enemies were attempting to pick off, one by one. Whether they were successful, or if her friends had managed to...win? Escape? She didn't know.

Gingerly she rose, unsteadily to her feet and eventually succeeded in pulling her body fully upright, a feat she had no memory of ever having difficulties achieving prior, and began to navigate the broken building she was currently occupying; a place which, possibly until today, had been home…

Incoherent, distant sounds filled her ears all of a sudden. Perhaps they'd always been there? She wondered fleetingly, not particularly interested in knowing whether this was the case or not. Turning her head in the direction of the noise, primarily what sounded like faraway shouts, she halted. An educated guess informed her that their location was likely to be the Great Hall, where mere hours before she'd sat on a long wooden bench, in front of a long wooden table, and ate from a simple, white, ceramic drank from a goblet-shaped glass, as though the day ahead held nothing out of the ordinary. She snorted to herself, as this day wouldn't hold the beginning of...this.

Once more she moved, continuing her passage through the aftermath, the remnants of the battle that, bizarrely felt like a distant memory despite having only occurred. She thought it had only been a few hours; perhaps less, perhaps more, she cared not for any particulars. She wondered, briefly, whether her friends were safe and if a victory had occurred, although somehow, even though these details should be important focal points, she didn't seem capable of fixating on what their answers could be for longer than a few seconds at a time.

And so she walked, with distant shouts and once-familiar walkways, now almost unrecognisable; caved in and sometimes bloody, to guide her. The Great Hall was a short walk away from the courtyard, the journey should, and on many occasions had, only taken a matter of a few minutes. This time, however, it was as though she was striding through invisible treacle. She went with it blearily, and ambled along at the slowed pace.

Meeting no one, it wasn't until she was finally positioned at the entrance to her destination, which had all but gone entirely silent, that her eyes finally rested upon another live human; and another and another, until she had made out the profile of a number of people. Most were standing, stark still,one was pacing a small oval space created by the onlookers.

"And now...I reign VICTORIOUS!" The centre figure was tall and cloaked and he alone spoke into the quiet; the last word was cried loudly, elongated and ending in a hiss. The reticence dissipated all but entirely as a number of shouts, chants and cheers filled the large room.

She swallowed dryly, as her brown eyes swept the Hall. Until she heard, through the din of celebration, a miniscule slice of normality.

"Ev? Ev is that you? Thank fuck!" before rushed footsteps hurried their way towards her, and a pair of dark eyes momentarily found hers, before she was lifted from her feet, and a familiar pair of arms crushed her, pulling her into a tall frame. "I thought… I thought I'd lost you," she heard him stammer somewhere against her shoulder.

"Gods, Ev. We thought for sure you were a goner." A second voice, full of relief, spoke from her left. Turning, she was met with a concerned face and a furrowed brow. He observed her. "Mate, she needs medical attention, look," the second figure spoke to the first, gesturing towards her hand, which she now noticed had blood openly spilling from the wound she'd noted earlier. The first nodded once, his face paling at the sight of the gash. "She's lost a lot of blood, no wonder she can barely stand," she heard the second figure say before she became dimly aware of the first scooping her into his arms, her injured hand thrust ungracefully to the side where it hung as she was quickly carried the length of the hall.

"Help her… she needs… her hand."

Unaware of anything bar a few strung-together words, she realised her eyes were closed and her body was currently experiencing a sense of weightlessness she attributed to flying a broomstick, if a broomstick allowed the rider to fly on his or her back, with no support whatsoever of course.

"What if she-"

"-going to-"

"-replenishing now."

"Her mother, fuck, it was-"

"I don't know."

She possessed neither reason, nor desire to find out what any of the disjointed phrases meant. Her mind, for some unknown reason, was choosing to drift in and out of consciousness.

"-responding, she'll be-"

"How did she even-"

"-MOTHER, mate how the fuck do we even-"

"-isn't she awake yet?"

"Ev, baby, wake up."

"Okay." She heard herself murmur as her eyes fought against her attempts to open them. She became aware, for the first time of a dull, throbbing pain in her left hand, a searing heat in her right leg and a pounding soreness resonating from her forehead. "Am I dead?" S\she whispered, feeling the well-known hand squeeze her arm,

"No baby, you're in shock."

"Oh, okay," she replied, feeling neither elation, nor disappointment at the revelation of her current status.

"Is she strong enough to side-along?" She heard the same voice query aloud.

"Technically yes, but she's at much greater risk of splinching. I wouldn't advise it but given the circumstances… Be very careful."

She somehow felt, rather than saw, him nod, before he planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "I'm going to get us out of here, hang on one sec, okay?"

"Mmmhmmm," she answered dazedly, wondering where they would be heading, yet knowing she didn't really care.

He wasn't gone for long, he may not have been gone at all, she didn't know. What she did know was that he was suddenly pulling her into his arms once more. She blearily observed the small part of her surroundings she was able to see, they were almost entirely deserted. Bangs and laughter could be heard around them, though he paid them little notice, and neither did she.

"You know where to go, yeah? Drawing room would be better, you can get her to one of the downstairs bedrooms easily enough from there," she heard from somewhere behind her. She felt the arms beneath her stiffen and all of a sudden she felt as though she was pulled through a giant, invisible band. She gasped for breath and then, as quickly as it had started, it was over, and she opened her eyes to find them in a cold and dark, but still impossibly grand, room.

She heard the sound she knew was another apparation close by, and she managed to peek over the shoulder of her carrier, to see a pair of familiar eyes lock onto her own.

"C'mon," the other said, leading them through a pair of large doors, and down a large corridor. They didn't have to move for long, before they stepped into a lamp-lit room and she saw, and then felt herself being lowered into, a large bed. Allowing her eyelids to droop and close, she listened to the discussion going on between her two companions as she felt an odd calm overtake her body.

"I'll get one of the elves to continue her care. Best I can do, but it's better than nothing."

"I appreciate it."

"Course… Mate?"

"Yeah?"

"You have to tell her."

"I know."

She heard a set of hurried footsteps leave the room and continue to echo through the hallway they had come from. A weight pressed down on one side of the bed, as she felt his body slump into the bedding. WIth difficulty, she opened her eyes. The pain from her hand was suddenly back,intensifying and her leg was beginning to throb. His dark eyes were staring at her intently. "We're going to get you some more pain potions," he said, relatively evenly, but she didn't miss the crack in his voice.

"What's wrong?" She inquired, stroking his face with a brush of her fingertips, the majority of her hand was covered in a hastily thrown together bandage.

He shook his head, "I don't even know how to tell you this, but...I have to."

"I can handle it."

He nodded but remained silent, not meeting her gaze as he took deep breath after deep breath, until finally his dark gaze examined her face, before he cleared his throat and finally spoke; "You know the Order, were all there, tonight?" She nodded, throat dry, sensing the direction his recollection was heading.

"Your," he paused, clearly taking care choosing his words, "they were all there, and well, in the end, right before he took down Potter, there was another duel, it was...pretty fucking crazy…"

She listened, her breathing ragged at his anecdote, knowing she was failing to take in everything he was saying; "Bellatrix, I mean you know how fucking crazy she is…

...and well, it was lasting ages, nobody expected….successful curse, but rebounded I guess and...they both just...they were both gone...they're both gone."

"Theo?" She spoke his name aloud, all but forcing him to reveal the truth he was so desperately clinging to. And he did, and she listened, hearing but barely processing.

She heard herself gulp as he concluded, "I'm so sorry, Evra." He finished, meekly. She knew that sentiments were not a particularly strong suit he held in his possession. She nodded, once again, numb. Still through shock, though this time an entirely different kind.

"It's funny," she began after a long, silent pause, "I feel like she never knew me at all." Looking at Theo's face, his ashen expression looked downtrodden, his eyes expressing the pain she knew he felt for her as she felt his hand stroke her arm lightly, she knew he was listening intently to her as his arms snaking around her, holding her as she finished; "The last time I properly spoke to her, I...I wasn't Evra...I wasn't even Ginevra. I was Ginny."

* * *

Part Two

Beginning

* * *

He held her still, through her numbness and recovery. Whenever he was there, he was holding her.

Evra's feelings seemed to have taken a temporary hiatus, after being declared physically healed, a week of bedrest; regular blood replenishing potions, on top of the exemplary healing knowledge surprisingly held by the Malfoy House Elves, had ensured she only bore a thin scar on her hand as a momento. The fleeting pangs of sadness she did feel were few and far between. In truth, Evra found herself internally querying how to feel, and what, if anything, she should feel. The stark reality was, she just didn't know. How does one feel grief for the person who threatened to lock her up, who punished her for falling in love and for no longer believing in what she once stood for? How does one feel sorrow for any 'Chosen One' falling, when her faith in his cause had diminished well over a year ago?

Theo was required to attend almost daily meetings, which Evra was excused from, pending her full recovery. The dark haired wizard attended to her every evening, reporting the day's events and news to her.

The Dark Lord had not spent the time immediately following his victory celebrating, like many of his followers. The very evening after the Battle had ceased he himself had flown all the way to the Ministry of Magic, Pius Thicknesse, still under the control of the Imperius Curse, in tow, and began to make longer term plans for the running of Wizarding Britain. According to Theo, the Dark Lord had informed them that he'd relished in the releasing of Thicknesse from his curse, torturing the ex-ministry worker senseless around the Minister of Magic's office, informing him of his role in the Dark Lord's reign.

"Why bother even bringing him?" Evra had questioned Theo, confused.

Theo scratched the back of his head as he raised his shoulders in a quick shrug; "If you ask me, probably just for the hell of it. This is his beginning."

Evra nodded, "I suppose."

"How're you doing, baby?" Theo asked, reaching for her, running his thumb over the back of Evra's hand.

She looked down, examining the cream bed covers, "I...I don't know," Evra confessed, "how am I supposed to be?"

"No one can answer that," Theo's voice was low, his thumb tracing imaginary circles over his witch's hand.

"At least...we're alive." Evra replied after a long minute, her gaze shifted upwards, enabling her to scrutinise his face.

It was Theo's turn to nod, his dark eyes meeting her brown. He positioned himself closer to her, using his free hand to brush his fingertips down her cheek. "You're alive, and that's all I care about."

They stayed, in a comfortable silence, for a number of minutes Evra didn't count, her eyes closed as Theo's hand rhythmically worked its way towards her ear, and landed in her hair, where it palmed handfuls of her thick, red locks.

"I think I might be...broken." Evra eventually whispered.

"Oh, baby…-" Theo began, before Evra cut him off; "-not that kind of broken, I think I'm broken, I don't feel anything, Theo."

Theo gave a small smile, he removed his hand from her hair and grasped the other hand; he brought her hands together, entangled in both of his. "Evra, you aren't broken. You're most likely still in shock, and I have no doubt if…" he paused, his face unreadable, "-things were different, you'd feel entirely different. Maybe, deep down, you know you can't really show you're sad over...anything. Or maybe, you already sort of grieved, when you left."

"That makes sense." She answered honestly. The ties she'd severed with her family had hurt her, not at the time, but months after. A part of herself she pushed so deep she scarcely remembered feeling the loss. Perhaps, she mused, she'd already cut herself from that part of her life so entirely, she'd already said goodbye.

A short, sharp knock on the door disrupted Evra's thoughts, Theo met her eyes briefly before crying a brisk "Yeah?"

Draco's pale, pointed face appeared as the blonde wizard opened the door just enough to peek around, "The Dark Lord asked me to fetch you both, he's waiting in the front dining room," Draco spoke calmly, his eyes flickering between the two figures on the bed.

"Both of us?" Theo asked, glancing fleetingly at Evra before directing his attention to his best friend once more.

Draco cleared his throat and nodded, "I think he expects Ev to be recovered enough to at least walk to him."

"It's fine," Evra spoke, before Theo could, "I'll come, just give me a minute to put some clothes on...do I have any clothes here?" The thought suddenly occurring to her that the thought of walking through the ground floor of Malfoy Manor wearing nothing but one of the nightshirts she'd been wearing for the past week was not a particularly appealing one.

Draco flicked his wand, casting a spell non verbally, "I've summoned something of mine," he informed her, as, right enough, a pair of black lounge trousers and green t shirt levitated themselves into the bedroom.

"Thanks," Evra responded, gratefully as Draco nodded and ducked out of the room, closing the door behind him. After dressing quickly, she and Theo set off through the maze of corridors required to take them to the dining room, which incidentally had ceased to exist as a place of eating ever since the Dark Lord had invited himself to use the Manor as his permanent residence, months before.

As they approached, voices could be heard, all familiar and all raised. Rabastan Lestrange and his brother Rodolphus were clearly in the company of Lucius Malfoy and the Dark Lord himself. Evra glanced at Theo, grasping his hand in her own as they approached the commotion.

"My wife is dead, Rabastan! Dead! You really think claiming Muggle fucking whores is going to help?"  
"Get your fucking wand out of my face! I mean it...brother." Rabastan spoke the last word as though it was one he despised.

"Enough!"  
"SHUT UP LUCIUS!" The collective, identical shout from both Lestrange brothers pierced the air, which was followed by a deafening silence until Evra heard a cold laugh escape the slightly-ajar door.

"Rodolphus, I too am...shocked, and saddened by dear Bella's murder, but fighting amongst ourselves is not going to bring her back."  
"I know that, my Lord, I apologise. I just...I want justice."

"Of course," Voldemort replied, elongated the 's' sound at the end of his words, "I suggest you go and extract your vengeance against anyone who opposes us." He hissed.

"I...I will, my Lord."

"Good. Now, I have another...engagement, which is most likely approaching as we speak." The dark wizard said, before snapping, "Lucius don't be so rude. Get the door!"

The door was indeed opened, and Lucius Malfoy's pale face met the waiting couple as the Lestrange brothers exited the dining room, Rabastan slightly in front, the man offered a nod at Theo, murmuring "Nott" as he passed, Rodolphus' gaze fell on Evra, who, since she had basically pledged her allegiance to them, was not one to be phased by Death Eaters, yet something in the way Rodolphus' eyes flickered over her had filled her very core with unease. She had no time to dwell on it however, her attentions almost immediately forced upon the cloaked figure gesturing to them to enter the once-dining room.

"Young Theodore, and Ginevra." Voldemort said, his mouth twisting into something of a smile. Evra bowed her head in unison with Theo, before clearing her throat and, bravely countering; "Please, my Lord, call me Evra. I left my life as Ginevra behind."

His mouth stretched into the same smile from moments ago, "Of course...Evra. Take a seat, both of you." He finished, gesturing to the empty chairs situated to one side of a large, mahogany table. "Lucius, inform one of your Elves to bring my young guests some refreshments." Evra couldn't help but notice his tone had an air of disdainment to it whenever he addressed the elder Malfoy.

"Yes, my Lord, of course. Bently!" Lucius addressed the thin air in front of him, where, a second later, a House Elf appeared, not one that had been attending to Evra during her recovery.

"Good, Lucius you are excused."

"Right, my Lord." Lucius answered, bowing low, before exiting the room. The door closed sharply behind him.

Neither Theo nor Evra spoke, both stayed still, poised, awaiting the reveal of whatever Voldemort had summoned them for. When he eventually spoke, he directed himself entirely towards Evra. "How are you feeling now, Evra. I was informed of your injuries."

"Better now, thank you, my Lord."

"Excellent, I don't suppose you've had much chance to get to grips with much that's happened this week."

"Only what Theo has told me." Evra answered, wondering where the direction of this meeting was headed.

"Of course," Voldemort replied, lacing his thin fingers together atop the dark wooden table. At that moment, the House Elf, Bailey, reappeared, carrying a circular tray laden with a bottle of firewhiskey; and three glasses which housed three cubes of ice each. The small Elf bowed to each of them in turn before disappearing through the door he had entered from.

"Please," Voldemort politely gestured towards the tray, and Theo grabbed the glasses and dished them out before pouring a generous measure of the liquor in each.

"I'm assuming you are wondering why I have called you here," Voldemort began, which caused both Evra and Theo to elicit a slight nod. "As I'm sure you've both realised, I will expect you to take the Dark Mark." Evra was unsurprised by the words; she and Theo had discussed the fact that they would be expected to take the mark at some stage. She heard Theo reply, "Of course, my Lord. We had assumed you would request this of us at one point or another."

"Excellent, I hope to have a marking ceremony scheduled for this coming weekend." Both Theo and Evra nodded at his words.

"Secondly, Evra," Voldemort continued. "I must inquire," his red eyes bored into hers as he spoke, delectably calm and collected, "you will be aware, by now that it was your blood traitor mother who was responsible for the death of Bellatrix, yes?"

Evra found her gaze was directed at the table in front of her, her cheeks burned as she felt Voldemort's eyes upon her still.

"She is the woman who birthed me, my Lord." Evra began, "Nothing more."

"I'm certainly glad to hear it," she heard him hiss, his voice level and calculated; "I wanted to check there was no...questioning... of your loyalty to...our cause."

Evra looked up, finding the courage to meet Voldemort's eyes as a hundred memories wove in front of her mind's eye. She felt Theo's hand find hers, giving it the smallest of squeezes, reaffirming that somehow, with her wizard, in this new beginning and the newest chapter of their lives, was exactly where she was supposed to be.

"No, my Lord, none at all." Evra answered honestly.

* * *

Part Three

Arising

* * *

 _"Ginevra you are sixteen years old. You have no more idea of what love is than that mop." Molly Weasley screamed, her right hand jerking towards the corner of the Burrow's small kitchen, where a collection of tall cleaning instruments were standing, leaning against the wall, her face mere inches from her daughter's. "On top of that, do you have the faintest idea of just what the Nott family are? If this Theodore is anything like his father-"_

 _"He'll what?!" She cried back, just as loud, her patience dwindling more and more by the second, "Actually have some success in life?!"_  
 _Molly stopped, her face downtrodden, even through her rage; "GO TO YOUR ROOM! NOW!"_

Evra smiled as her boyfriend walked through the bedroom door, returning her sentiment as he crossed the room, his arms snaking their way over her waist, she felt herself leaning into him, relishing the feel of his body on hers. Everyone was wrong about us, she thought to herself, closing her eyes happily.

 _"You came." Theo stated, his eyes drifting over her toned body as she waltzed towards him._

 _"Of course I did," she exclaimed, tapping her index finger on his nose before leaning backwards, knowing her body was perfectly positioned in an endearing slouch against a nearby wall. She bit her lip, earnestly watching the way his eyes darted hungrily over every inch of her._

 _"Nice necklace," he remarked with a smirk at the long, rose gold chain hanging over her chest. The chain held a diamond-encrusted heart pendant. She briefly raised her eyebrows, and met his smirk with her own, "Yeah, it's alright," she began, feigning disinterest, "this guy bought me it for my birthday. Pretty sure he just wants to fuck me. Shame he's a massive loser."_

 _"Is that so? He sounds like a dick."_

 _"He is," she laughed, "you really didn't have to," she added, sincerely, "I'm not used to…" she trailed off, gesturing her hands at her necklace._

 _"One day, Ginevra, I'll give you the whole world."_

 _"Don't call me Ginevra!"_

 _"What about Gin?" Theo asked, smiling, as he stepped forward, pressing himself into her, his face finding the top of her shoulder._

 _"Errr, what about no?" Her answer was followed by a groan as Theo began placing a trail of gentle kisses over her shoulder blade._

 _"Okay...Evra?" He asked between his kisses, which had now met her jawline._

 _"I like that." She told him, leaning her head back as far as she could, allowing his exploring mouth further access to her._

 _"The name or me doing this?" He queried, his groin now pushing into hers, letting out his own moan of pleasure as he felt her push herself back against him._

 _"Both," she whispered._

 _Theo let out a low, animalistic growl, "Good." He stated simply, before grabbing her behind roughly, dipping his hands slightly to the back of both her thighs and using this as leverage to pick the witch up, kissing her mouth hungrily as he did. She responded immediately, throwing her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, lost in the absolute enigma that was Theodore Nott._

"Did you have a good day?" She mumbled, her voice obscured slightly from the fact she had pressed her face into his chest.

"Yeah, actually. Me and Draco are working together now, we're helping to plan all the new security measures."

"That sounds interesting." Evra replied, "better than my day, anyway."

"Hmmm? How come baby?"

"Spent all day with Draco's mum. She's so boring!" Evra replied, she felt Theo shake slightly with an unheard laugh. "It's not funny!" She complained, "it's alright for you, you're out there, doing stuff."

Theo stroked her hair with his left hand and her back with his right, "I know baby, what would you like to be?"

"What would I like to be?" She threw his question back at him, pondering, she drew away from his body, just enough to look her wizard in the eye, "I want to be the greatest. WIth you"

Theo observed her, his mouth twisting into a smirk, "Me too, baby. And one day, we will be. One day...we'll have the whole world."

Evra found herself laughing, outwardly, and unashamedly, which Theo mimicked perfectly. She regained her composure and bit her bottom lip, gazing up at the wizard she loved with all her being. "So how do we get there?" She asked, the corners of her mouth twisting into what she knew was a smug smile

"It's just a case of biding our time and playing our cards right. Right now, we're arising." His reply stunned Evra into a standstill of awe, as she examined, yet again, the way his eyes always lit up as he spoke of the future, their future.

 _"Can I tempt you, my beautiful Evra?" Theo asked, as nonchalantly as if he were asking to borrow a quill, definitely not as though he'd just dripped melted chocolate in a vertical line leading southwards from his belly button. It was his eyes though, on top of his actions of course, that did all the seducing, and tempting Evra needed._

 _"You could tempt me into anything." She replied, her mouth already making a slow descent down Theo's torso. "You already tempted me into sleeping down here with the snakes." She added and Theo snorted. "That's because it's much better down here with the snakes."_

 _"Hmmm," she said, through a sporadic mix of chocolate-flavoured licks and firmly planted kisses on the bottom of Theo's toned stomach, "I do happen to have one favourite...snake." She stopped her actions just long enough to throw Theo off guard, before placing her mouth over her, already hard, favourite snake._

"One day," he gasped between involuntary moans, "I'll give you the whole world."

"How do you feel about tomorrow?" Theo asked, running the tips of his fingers down a strand of red hair that had come undone from Evra's tied back ponytail. It was currently Friday evening, meaning their marking ceremony was set for the following afternoon.

"I feel...okay." Evra answered, running her own fingertips over Theo's shirt collar, he had obviously discarded his robes upon arriving back at the Manor, leaving his current attire a pair of slim, smart black trousers and a fitted black shirt. His clothes only accentuated his toned, lean physique. Evra's fingers began to automatically undo his shirt's buttons, slowly, one by one. His smooth skin appearing before her only heightened her want of him. A moan escaped his lips as hers pressed against the centre of his chest.  
Theo finished the task of removing his shirt from his person himself, throwing the garment hastily aside as his hands worked their way down Evra's back and finding the bottom of her black vest. In one swift movement he removed the top hastily from her body. Theo pulled her close to him, kissing her vigorously, his tongue wrestling against hers as his hands ran over every inch of her they could find, before he walked them the two steps it took for the back of Evra's legs to touch the bed, and in one instant, he roughly pushed her onto the mattress, causing a gasp of surprise, then an understanding giggle to erupt from the witch. She waited impatiently, propping herself up onto her elbows as she watched him undo the buckle of his black, leather belt.  
"Oh, I almost forgot, you are most distracting, did you know that? Looks like we'll be getting married." Theo stated, finally having the belt fully open, he moved his fingers to the button of his trousers.

"What?" Evra asked, genuinely wondering if she had misheard his words.

"Some law the Dark Lord is going to enforce, think he'll be announcing it at the ceremony tomorrow, something about needing more pure blood births, anyone of procreating age," he air quoted the last two words, smirking at Evra as he did, "has to get hitched, then get it on." He finished with a wink, his trousers now in a crumpled heap at his ankles, before climbing onto the bed, and Evra's awaiting form.

* * *

Part Four

Alive

* * *

Evra jolted awake the following morning, unsure of what exactly had woken her, she rolled over, enabling herself to watch the sleeping form of her wizard. Theo's dark hair was strewn, floppily over his forehead, his face looked calm, serene almost and his mouth was hanging slightly open. Evra's gaze followed his body southwards, his breathing was deep and undisturbed and Evra found herself entranced by the way his chest rose and fell.

He was all she needed, all she craved and he wanted to give her the world.

Evra deliberated what the day might entail. Draco had informed them both that the Marking Ceremony was painful, but he had been reluctant to divulge any more details. She wondered if anyone else was to be Marked, and realised, almost guiltily, that she hadn't seen any of her other friends since the battle. Theo had informed her that Crabbe and Goyle; Millicent and Astoria had all survived, he guessed they would be taking the Mark at the same time he and Evra were; he had spoken to several others also, most of whom had already been assigned the positions they would undertake in the new, this time permanent ruling of Wizarding Britain. The majority of the Order had been either incarcerated or killed. Evra briefly wondered where, and who, was still alive. Shocked, even to herself, that she barely felt more than mild curiosity over the status of her once-family. Theo is my family now, Evra internally stated to herself. Her mind fleetingly drifted to her childhood, of hand me down boy's clothes and poverty, and the summer they had spent living in Grimmauld Place with the escaped convict Sirius Black, who lasted one year before failing to not get himself killed. Evra shook herself, waking Theo in the process, "Hi, baby," he said sleepily, rolling over to face her, a mischievous smile already placed upon his lips. "Hi, yourself," Evra replied, turning herself over so the couple were face to face.

"How're you doing?" Theo asked, his hand reached towards her, finding a strand of red hair that had fallen in front of her face, tucking it behind her ear, he leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss upon her mouth.

"I'm...really okay, actually." Evra responded, huskily.

"Good." Theo barely had time to speak the one syllable aloud before his hand had snuck around the base of her neck, and her face was brought to meet his, in a kiss that, this time, was far from chaste.

"This robe doesn't even fit me a little bit," Evra commented, two hours later, she lifted both her arms outwards, exhibiting just how much the heavy green fabric drowned her small frame. The display drew a laugh from Theo, who fit slightly better in his own ceremonial robes. The dark haired wizard crossed the bedroom in a few short steps and took both of Evra's shoulders in his hands, squeezing them gently, "This is just another step, one day-," Evra placed a hand gently over his mouth, cutting him off, she continued, "-we'll have the world." Before reaching up to plant a brief kiss where her hand had rested a second before. He chuckled in response at her interruption, and, whilst looking over her robed body, said "You look good in green, I've said it before but you definitely should have been in Slytherin." He gave her another quick kiss before asking, "You ready, baby?"

"Yeah, I think so," Evra breathed. "Theo?" She began, unsure of how to correctly word the question brewing in her mind.

"Mmhmmm?"

"Is everybody going to get Marked now?"

"Nah, I doubt it. Only Death Eaters have it, and not everyone can be a Death Eater, even now."

"Okay, so, we'll be Death Eaters?"

"Looks like it...you sure you're okay?"

"And Death Eaters are seen as more important, more...powerful?"

Theo grinned in response to the ghost of a smile that had creeped over his witch's mouth, "You know it baby."

"Then I'm definitely okay, let's go." Grabbing his hand in hers, she marched the pair from the room.

The Marking Ceremony was due to take place in an easterly-facing drawing room. Draco had informed them it was the same place he had taken the Mark. The walk there was a short one, considering Evra and Theo stayed in the same bedroom from the eve of the battle, which was located on the ground floor. It took the pair less than five minutes to reach the entrance to their destination, where they were greeted by a number of hooded figures, all silent and wearing sinister masks. Evra had seen the masks before on a couple of occasions, and had rather liked the idea of owning her own. Voldemort was standing close to the rear of the room, in front of what looked like a large black alter, only it strangely didn't seem to have any real solidity, and in fact, the more Evra scrutinised the object, the more it appeared to be constructed from a gas, it resembled smoke more than anything else, yet it stayed entirely in the shape it had been cast. Evra revelled at the sight of it, the height of the room and about a third of the width. She could almost feel the powerful magic radiating from its majestic presence. Feeling the grip of Theo's hand tighten slightly in her own, they began to walk through masked crowd. Evra noticed familiar faces watching her as the approached Voldemort. Just as Theo had predicted; Millicent; Astoria; Crabbe and Goyle were present, along with a two other boys she thought she recognised as former Slytherins that had been a couple of years above her.

Evra's attention was drawn back to Voldemort almost instantaneously, the leader clapped his hands together once, suddenly. Every person that occupied the drawing room instantly stiffened, the Dark Lord held their full attention almost effortlessly, something Evra couldn't help herself but admire.  
"Ahh," Voldemort began, "Our newest…recruits." His trademark hiss resided in the air after his last word. "As you can all see, my friends, we have eight new loyalists to our cause, each and every one bringing, I am sure, a set of unique talents and abilities." His red eyes swept the line that Evra, Theo and the others had formed as he spoke. Evra's face was pointed, steady and unafraid, towards their leader.

"It is time," Voldemort continued, "for you all to join us, come." He beckoned his long, pale fingers for them to step up to the smoke-alter.  
"Rodolphus, have you the concoction?" Voldemort asked, scanning the length of the room, from somewhere behind her Evra heard a familiar voice speak, "Yes, my Lord. It is here."

One of the hooded and masked figures appeared in Evra's line of sight. Rodolphus, she assumed, was carrying a small, dark wooden circular tray, similar to the ones that the Malfoy House Elves used in their service. Upon the tray sat eight small tumblers, similar in size to that of a whiskey glass. The tumblers were half-filled with a dark liquid, almost black in colour, although Evra noticed as it bobbed slightly with the motion of the tray being carried, the liquid had a deep red tinge.

"Excellent, please," Voldemort beckoned to the altar as he spoke, and the masked Rodolphus placed the tray on top of the altar, which despite its appearance, held the weight of solid wooden tray easily.  
"All prospective Death Eaters, those who I trust to take place in my inner circle; to serve and defend in my name and to follow my leadership without question, are required to undertake three tasks, which are all encompassed within this ceremony." Voldemort stated to the silent room. "All three are tasks of fealty, allegiance and loyalty. The completion of all three is what makes you...a Death Eater."

Evra swallowed, her curiosity was peaking as she tried to ignore the nerves bubbling in the pit of her stomach.  
Voldemort clapped his hands together, twice this time, in quick, short succession. A movement from the other side of the room caught her attention, as Evra and the majority of the occupants of the room, swivelled her head. A large, black curtain that Evra had failed to notice previously was located to the far side of the room, acting, she believed, as a makeshift divider. The curtain fell, dramatically in one swift movement and Evra couldn't help but let out a small gasp as she saw, bound and gagged, eight individuals. All looked conscious but unable to move an inch.

"The more astute amongst you will have noticed that the number of...guests we have over here," Voldemort beckoned to Evra and the others with his right hand, "perfectly matches the number of guests over there," this time he used his left hand to motion towards the kidnapped individuals across the room.

"And we have some lovely… family reunions!" The dark leader cried, earning him an audible snicker from the few of the Death Eaters. "Miss Bulstrode, you will notice your filthy, blood traitor aunt Sevempra over there; Mr Nott, Avery managed to track down your long lost mother dearest, hiding out in a remote part of France...the coward that she is...and lastly, Miss...Weasley," he paused for the briefest of moment at his mention of her surname, "It wouldn't be a proper affair without one of your former brood present, would it?" Evra swallowed again, her throat dry as she fought to keep her shocked breathing steady, as she looked across the drawing room, into the hauntingly familiar blue eyes of her father.

Evra barely noticed Voldemort had began to speak once more, she knew what was coming, she had been foolish to not think The Dark Lord would set further tasks for his recruits.

Evra had known a long time ago, before she even began to speak to Theo, that she did not possess her family's views on blood status. She liked blood purity, Voldemort had commended her blood status before he even returned as the Dark Lord, when he was technically still Tom Riddle, even though that boy no longer existed, when she had written to him, explained her confusion, her thoughts and fears, he had listened, or whatever the equivalent of listening in the context of a memory shard. She had spent hours upon hours writing in the diary, telling Tom all her deepest secrets, about her juvenile crush on Harry Potter, her feeling, which at the time was slight enough to hide completely, superiority whenever she got the chance to say she was a pure blood.  
You should never have to feel shame because you were born better, Tom had written, and Evra had agreed, hating more and more as each year passed, that her pureblood status was meaningless, because it wasn't meaningless, not to her.

When she began speaking to Theo, and eventually Draco and the rest of his friends, it was a breath of fresh air, she could express herself and be who she knew she wanted to be. Once Theo had invented the name Evra, it was as though she became a different person, her true self, she often thought, a self where Ginny was a memory and Evra was a reality.

When she'd left her parents, she hadn't looked back, she'd tried, unsuccessfully, to explain her feelings in as sheltering a way as possible, but to no avail. Disowned, and perhaps rightly so, Evra often mused, considering she'd spent the majority of her sixth year in Theo's bed, carrying out the Carrows' bidding without much question.

The stark truth was, Evra felt alive, for the first time in her life, alive with Theo and alive with herself. No longer the smallest, the weakest, the one that needed protecting from everything, she was standing on her own two feet, with only Theo conscious of protecting her. And she felt truly powerful, and strong, which she eagerly fed off, grew from and relished in.

Theo's hand was still crushing hers as a clearing was created through the hooded figures; Evra watched as Voldemort led the recruits through the crowd, until they were standing, each in front of their respective task.

Arthur Weasley had clearly seen better days, his middle aged body was bruised and swollen; his clothes were more bloodstain than not. It was his eyes, however, where his true pain truly lay, as he watched his only daughter psych herself up, to kill him.

Evra forced any emotion from her face, she was well practised in but never had she faced such a test of will. She remembered something Draco had once said; the Dark Lord likes his followers to look their victims dead on, he wants you to see the life leave their eyes.

Evra steadied herself; she placed her feet slightly apart and her shoulders back, and she forced herself to look, unseeing into the eyes of the man who had helped to bring her into this world. This world that, if she didn't kill him, she would end up leaving herself. And Theo certainly couldn't give her the whole world if she was no longer a part of it. That thought was all Evra needed to focus herself, and when Voldemort cried a high pitched "KILL THEM," she was amongst the first to say a cold and collected "Avada Kedavra." And as the life left Arthur Weasley's eyes, in Evra's mind, there was nothing but Theo.

* * *

Part Five

Piercing

* * *

The magical bonds that had kept the eight prisoners in place were broken once their victim had deceased. Eight bodies crashed, in an undignified fashion, to the hard flooring. Evra heard the crack of eight skulls hit the solid wood. Grateful for the chance to avert her eyes from the sight, which was harder to avoid in the aftermath of her curse, she turned to her left, to face a paler-than-usual, but still calm, Theo. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly the tiniest whisper of a smile graced his lips. They had no more than a few seconds before Voldemort demanded the attention of the couple, and subsequently everyone else located within the drawing room, almost immediately.

"You have all passed your first task, with little to no hesitation I may add, excellent. Now come," a slender, pale hand beckoned them back the way they had come, towards the makeshift altar. Once they had returned, and the watching bodies had rearranged themselves surrounding those undergoing the ceremony, Voldemort spoke once more, "You second task concerns the concoction Rodolphus brought us earlier," he gestured to the tray of glasses as he spoke, "this prepares your body for the spell I cast in order to set the Dark Mark into your skin." He made a come hither motion with his right hand, signalling a Death Eater, who Evra assumed was once again Rodolphus, to come forward and pass the glasses between the eight. Evra examined hers once it was placed into her outstretched hand; the liquid looked thick and somehow shimmery, there also seemed to be a small cloud of steam she had failed to notice prior resting atop the liquid, which, to Evra, was odd, as the glass felt quite cool in her grip.

"It is worth mentioning," Voldemort began explaining, "that each glass contains a quantity of my blood, which is required for the binding magic used in the Mark's spell. And also, if you have any untrustworthy intent; were you here, for example, to spy on our circle, it will kill you...and it will be painful. Now, drink up!"

Right, let's do this, Evra thought to herself, focussing on keeping the disgust from her face first and foremost and then forcing the liquid down her throat. She downed the measure in one, and instantly regretted doing so. Evra's glass fell from her hand as she grabbed her throat, which she was certain was turning into molten rock. She struggled to breath, to scream and even see as the pain gripped her, radiating from her throat outwards to every orifice her body possessed. Until, all of a sudden, it was gone. The pain subsided as fast as it had appeared, and Evra stood, shakily realising she had dropped to her knees, which on closer inspection, the other candidates all had as well. She was the first to rise, the first to complete the second task and Voldemort's red eyes bored into her as she placed herself in her previous position, trying to ignore the agonising sounds that Theo was making on the floor to her left.

"Ahh, Evra. You shall be the first to complete the ritual," Voldemort addressed her directly, gesturing her forward as he spoke, "I shall place the Mark upon your skin first."

Evra nodded and automatically began the short walk forwards towards the magical altar, upon it lay an intricately carved knife, its handle encrusted with carved serpents, its blade glinting in the light of a large chandelier that hung from the centre of the ceiling.

"Do not be afraid, my child. It will only take a minute," Evra heard Voldemort hiss as she instinctively climbed atop the front of the altar, somehow knowing just how to position herself as she lay on her back, pulling the sleeve of her robes back, she outstretched her left arm, giving him full access to her pale forearm. Closing her eyes, she braced herself for the piercing cut she knew was imminent.

The pain, Evra was relieved to realise, was far more tolerable than the effects of the blood potion. It was painful, of course, but she found her body able to deal with it far better. Her hearing was oddly distorted, all sounds of the room she knew they were in were incredibly distant, as though she was underwater, she was sure she heard shouting, but was entirely unable to divulge who or what they were caused by. Evra felt her eyelids grow heavy and a dizziness overcame her, which only intensified the longer she tried to fight against it.

"It is complete, you may rise Evra." She heard from a somewhere above her, realising the dizzy sensation had dissipated, Evra opened her eyes. She blinked, looking up to see the back of Voldemort's tall frame to her left addressing the crowd as she shakily sat herself upright, examining the magical tattoo now permanently inked onto her arm.

"-my great surprise, I must admit even I was fooled." She heard Voldemort speak, clearly still talking to the throng of onlookers, Evra looked around, her eyes scanning the faces of those still to follow her, Crabbe was looking particularly sick. Evra watched him gulp before her gaze shifted, searching for Theo's face in the lineup. When she failed to find it, Evra felt her heart begin to hammer, something was wrong, she instantly knew, and as she searched the sea of faces and masks alike, hopelessly, she forced herself to look downwards, as the dread in her heart grew stronger, erupting in a piercing scream of fury and heartbreak as her eyes clamped onto her wizard's lifeless body.

Time seemed to become the most abstract of concepts, as Evra threw herself from the altar and all but crashed entirely onto Theo's breathless frame. She was certain she had only just descended upon him, already sobbing, crying his name along with a chorus of no's, when she felt a pair of arms snake themselves around her waist, lifting her gently from him. "No!" She heard herself scream, unwilling to to even a centimetre of distance between them, certain that somehow, in some way, he would open his beautiful, dark eyes to her once more. He couldn't be gone, "HE CAN'T BE GONE!" She screamed, repeating her thought out loud as she thrashed against her carrier, who refused to give in to her physical demands, carrying her from the room entirely and expertly navigating the ground floor of the Manor, arriving promptly, with the struggling witch still locked in his arms, at the bedroom she'd all but lived in since the eve of the battle.

Draco placed her on top of the large bed, the last place she'd lain with him, her Theo, and she screamed, fully, and loudly and openly, until her throat cracked and her voice failed her, until she fell, in a pile of sobs onto the mattress, Draco rubbing her back as he perched on the bed in a stony silence.

* * *

Part Six

Duty

* * *

"Ev?" She heard him call, from the corridor outside her room, accompanied by his trademark knuckle rap on the door.

"Yeah, Draco, come in." Evra said in reply, her voice monotonous as she lay, as she had for the last six days, unmoving atop the bed, Theo's shirt covering her small frame.

Draco entered quickly, crossing the room in a few steps and positioning himself into a seated position, perched on the edge of the bed.

"Ev, you've been summoned. You need to go."

"No." Evra stated, simply, unable to imagine anything she desired to do less."

"It's not...up for debate." Draco spoke through clenched teeth, "He's...not too happy."

"Why?" Evra queried, not entirely sure why she asked, possessing no real desire to know the answer.

"He...is angry," Draco began, clearly choosing his words carefully, "he's not happy that he let a...traitor in so deep."

Evra sat up, suddenly full of rage, "Theo was not a traitor! You fucking know that!" she shouted at the blonde wizard.

Draco's eyes were facing the floor, when he answered her, his voice was entirely calm, despite Evra's outburst, "I...don't believe he was either. But he died after drinking the potion. There aren't many conclusions to draw from that."

"Do you not think I know that?" Evra snapped, internally cursing Malfoy.

"Ev, you need to get to the meeting, do you understand? You do not want him to be the one to come looking for you."

Evra nodded, she swallowed hard and rose, her body feeling odd and heavy as she moved; in truth she felt very little other than utter grief, but a small part of her was scared to attend this meeting, and another small part of her was afraid not to attend.

The walk to the dining room was far shorter than Evra would have liked, the only thing she felt capable of thinking was to uncover who, or what, had caused this to happen, to take her Theo from her, and in the brief walk to reach her destination, Evra's mind had somewhat pushed her grief aside, for now, and was entirely focussed on one thing. Revenge.

She knocked on the heavy wooden door, which swung open almost instantly, allowing her entry. She raised her head, forcing herself to repeat in her mind that she had no fear, which was, for the most part true, I have nothing left to lose, Evra internally rationalised, realising that her fear, short lived as it was, really had no bearing on her. There's nothing they can do to me that will hurt more than losing thought was the oddest comfort Evra had ever felt, and yet it gave her the courage to walk, head held high, into her first Death Eater meeting.

"Ahh, Evra," she heard a familiar, cold voice say, "it was...good of you to join us, despite the recent tragic passing of... young Theodore."

Evra knew this in itself was a test, and so she formed her response carefully in her mind before replying, "I did feel the loss, of course. But, I realise now he was clearly a traitor. And I can no longer mourn a traitor, my Lord. I just...wish I had known. He was a fabulous actor." Her voice was steady and slow, and her closing words even earned her a murmur of amusement from the other occupants of the dining room. Evra looked at them all and the now familiar faces all looked up at her as she scanned the vicinity of the room. She heard a scuffle behind her and turned to see Draco enter, carrying a large tomb which he presented to Voldemort, before returning to his designated seat.

"Ah, thank you Draco." Voldemort acknowledged, before turning his attention back to Evra. "There is an empty space in the centre of the table, Evra. Would you take a seat?"

"Of course," she stated, simply. She found her facade easier to upkeep than she would have thought, her face remained utterly deadpan as she sat in her assigned chair. She found she was sitting opposite Lucius Malfoy,positioned in between Rodolphus and Avery. Draco was diagonally to her left.

Voldemort cleared his throat, "Now, as I was saying, it is abhorrently obvious that more pureblood births are very much needed. It is to become law for you all, and every serving member of my society, providing you are of," his red eyes rested solely on Evra for a brief moment before he continued, "childrearing age, it will be the duty of each of you to provide a pureblood heir. You will marry your selected partner of course, we must keep things...civil." He ended with a calculating laugh, which every Death Eater, whether genuinely, or falsely, in Evra's case, mimicked.

To Evra's left, Rodolphus cleared his throat, "My Lord?" He ventured. Evra watched Voldemort, attempting to gage his reaction.

"Yes, Rodolphus?"

"Is it preferable, to yourself, if two of your inner circle marry each other? The heir that will be produced would be raised on the strongest of your principles."

"Indeed, it would be, of course. Who did you...have in mind?"

"The beautiful witch to my right, of course," Rodolphus finished, smacking his hands together as he did."

Evra blinked, it did not take her long to work out who the witch to Rodolphus' right was. Marry a Lestrange? No.  
"A most...interesting idea," Voldemort answered Rodolphus' request, as his red eyes met Evra's brown. He continued, his voice sounding somewhat more sinister than usual, "Evra, you wouldn't...object at all?" He asked, and as much as she wanted to scream yes, of course she objected to marrying fucking Lestrange, she just knew his question was yet another test.

"N-No, of course not, my Lord."

"Excellent. Congratulations." Evra heard him hiss, and found herself primarily concerned at present with keeping the tears that were threatening to fall at bay and away from sight, it was as though Theo's death hit her all over again and all she could bring herself to do was she nod through her shock, and her pain.

The meeting ended rather abruptly, and Evra found herself bombarded with an unwanted barrage of unwanted and false-sounding sentiments of congratulations. Rodolphus looked to be in his element, "-just doing...my duty." She heard him say, his yellowing teeth visible through his heinous smile.

She wasn't even sure how, but Evra eventually found herself alone with him, her fiance, she supposed, she wasn't sure whether she felt more disgusted, or furious. In reality she knew she was both, and yet, she also had a strange sense of an odd calm. She certainly wasn't okay with the way the meeting had concluded, but as she thought, quietly, her hand brushing lightly against her Dark Mark, that yet again, she had nothing more to lose, vowing to herself that her career as a Death Eater would be spent finishing her and Theo's plans, with one slight modification: I'll burn you all to the ground, and claim the whole world. That's my duty.

The few weeks following the meeting sped past like a blur; a torturous, slow blur. Voldemort, presumably wanting to make an example out of the young wizard he felt betrayed by, had encouraged his other Death Eaters to mutilate Theo's body, which, in the case of Evra, had been yet another of his unspoken tasks of loyalty. Luckily for the witch, the vessel that had once held the other half of her soul, became just that: an empty vessel, and especially since it had swollen and changed somewhat on its own, Evra was more than capable of separating the two in her mind, as she, along with the others, cast pointless hex after pointless hex at the dead body.

Evra no longer cried for Theo, instead filling her long days with thoughts of nothing but hurting all of those who had hurt the two of them. Truly, she no longer cared what, if anything, were to happen to her. She played her role perfectly, because she held no rhyme or reason not to.

Her and Rodolphus' wedding had been set for the following weekend, the bullshit affair, Evra began to refer to the event in her mind was planned entirely without her assistance, and in fact, she was fairly certain that, apart from the obvious, her only duty would be to show up.

She heard very little from Rodolphus, which suited her fine, and even Draco seemed to keep his distance now, or perhaps not, she deliberated internally, she had never been particularly close to Draco, he'd never really been her friend, in fact the Malfoy heir had only ever really had one title in her mind: Theo's best friend. Taking a deep breath Evra consciously decided it was better this way; perhaps she'd work harder on gaining admiration, than friendship. Which would most likely serve her far better.  
Evra had little to no duties, something which, when she took a second to think about, she found rather insulting. She was just as capable, if not more, than carrying out Death Eater bidding. It was not advised to approach the Dark Lord directly with complaints over any current placement, but Evra barely had a current placement, surely asking him directly to undertake further responsibilities would only serve to make her look the most eager, one of the most loyal.

After the wedding, she bargained with herself, then I'll tell him I want to undertake more duties.

* * *

Part Seven

Broken

* * *

Evra woke on the morning of the bullshit affair, the same way she always did, suddenly, and with a tiny part, a part that seemed to be shrinking every passing day, of her searching for the warm arm that should be covering her. The remaining majority of her realising, almost instantaneously, that she would never find it again.

Sighing, Evra rolled onto her back, Theo's shirt bunching slightly around her back. She had been briefly informed by Narcissa that last night would be her last spent in Malfoy Manor, after the reception was over, she was expected to live with Rodolphus.

Narcissa had explained, almost excitedly, that it was an old pureblood ideal that a newly married wizard would buy his new witch a whole new wardrobe, to be ready for her immediately after they were wed.

Oh, fantastic. Evra had thought sarcastically at Narcissa's words, some new robes make marrying that idiot entirely more worthwhile. The redhaired witch rolled her eyes, turning away from the Malfoy matriarch without so much as a goodbye and sashayed away back to her room, just as she always did, with no more than a thought of stupid woman rolling around her mind.

Evra examined the ceremonial robes someone, most likely the interfering bat that was Narcissa, had hung delicately in front of the door. They were far too white; far too big and with far too low a neckline. Evra rolled her eyes, fucking pervs, she thought of noone in particular.  
Dressing silently, Evra knew she was expected to be entirely naked beneath the robes, she shivered once ready, vaguely wondering what the day would entail. She wasn't alone for long however, as a quick rap at the door, which turned out to be, of course, Narcissa.

"I thought I could help you fix your hair and makeup," the older witch spoke slowly, as though she were gaging Evra's reaction as she did.

"Fine, whatever. I don't really care." Evra answered, honestly as Narcissa, a slight smile now upon her face, moved into the room, beckoning for Evra to sit in a plain, wooden chair she tended to throw discarded clothes upon. She watched as Narcissa summoned a House Elf, a female elf Evra had not seen previously,a called Rowen. Rowen appeared carrying a small case that Evra assumed was carrying various beauty products. It had been a while since Evra had bothered to care about her appearance, and found herself not hating the feel of Narcissa's expert fingers running over her partially made up face.

"I understand today was...probably not what you had planned for your wedding." Narcissa said, her voice low.

Evra all but laughed, "You could say that."

"I understand," She heard Narcissa whisper, "This life…it is about...surviving. Often nothing more or less."

Evra nodded, but said nothing in response, allowing the blonde witch's words to resonate over her for a moment. Surviving had technically already become her primary goal, once Theo was taken from her, and even then it had seemed impossibly hard to find the motivation for some days.

"It is time, dear." Evra swallowed hard at Narcissa's words but managed to keep her face calm, something she had all but perfected over the last few weeks. Nodding, she turned to face the elder witch. Perhaps Narcissa wasn't too bad afterall. It may pay to have one ally, at least.

"Where is the wedding taking place?" Evra asked, her voice steady and collected.

The wave of darkness that briefly crossed Narcissa's face didn't go unnoticed by Evra, this was clearly a subject the blonde witch was not keen on broaching.

"It is...set to take place in the drawing room." Narcissa finally spoke and Evra felt her hands engulfed by both of Narcissa's.

"The...the drawing room? Where...where he? Oh fuck. No."

"It is...an unnecessary cruelty, I know." Narcissa said, clasping Evra's hands tighter still. "You will get through this Evra, of that I have no doubt."

Evra found herself only able to nod. Words utterly failing her, but the knowledge that the goal she'd set herself was well and truly a necessity, and an odd calm washed over her as she envisioned this bullshit affair solely for what it was, only a stepping stone to reach a place where she could hurt them, truly hurt them all.

For now, she just had to survive.

Narcissa accompanied Evra the short distance to the drawing room. She forced herself attempt to forget the last time she'd walked this path, with Theo at her side. Focussing her attentions entirely on her current task at hand. Surviving the bullshit affair.

The two witches were the last to arrive to the large room. In truth it looked none too dissimilar from when the Marking Ceremony had taken place. The smoke-altar was once again in place, or perhaps it remained there constantly, Evra realised that she had no knowledge of the room, or altar, other than the ceremonial occasions.

The wedding itself, some form of ancient bonding ritual, was to take place in front of the altar, and as Evra took her position, beside the awaiting Rodolphus, she knew she had been positioned, in what she could only imagine was yet another hidden loyalty test, or perhaps at this stage, nothing more than a cruel joke, in the exact spot that Theo had been standing in, when he was taken from the world.

Rodolphus' eyes scanned her body up and down, unashamedly so. His hand was outstretched, which Evra took without hesitation. The bile she had felt rise up to her throat had thankfully briefly diminished.

Voldemort himself performed the short ritual, Evra hadn't paid his words much attention as she fantasised about unleashing a copious amount of fiendfyre in her new husband's undergarments. So engrossed in her private reverie, Evra barely noticed the words "kiss the bride," erupt from Voldemort's mouth, and was momentarily stunned when Rodolphus' mouth clamped itself onto her own, in what she was certain must have looked like a grotesque, one-sided display of affection. His lips left hers after, what felt to Evra, far too long. His mouth moved its way across her cheek, stopping at her ear where he whispered a sinister sounding, "You are mine now."

Evra hoped she successfully hid the shudder that encased her body once he finally broke away.

The ceremony ended quickly, Evra scarcely believing the awful truth that engulfed her; she was actually bonded with this...this person, whom she couldn't stand. Trembling slightly, Evra allowed herself to be passed from Death Eater to Death Eater, all of which spoke a distorted-sounding congratulations. Evra plastered a smile on her face, wincing every time an unwanted hand touched her. Rodolphus found her an hour later, grabbing her arm tightly in his left hand, as he steered them both towards large doors, he stated, with a gleam in his eye, that their attendance at the reception would not be required, saying he wished to show Evra where she would be living, and for her to see the collection of new garments he had carefully selected for her.

Evra shrugged, her mind as empty as her response, she couldn't care less where they want or what they did. She knew his plan most likely involved very little to do with her new wardrobe, and most likely had everything to do with consummating the complete farce that was their marriage. Evra sighed, she detested this man in front of her but she knew she was too broken, too detached, to object. Enduring his kiss had been bad enough, and in reality the thought of bedding this man was not a pleasant one, but she knew that she had to comply, to get anywhere in this new world, a world that was cruel, and broken and delicate, but at least when it still contained Theodore Nott, there had been a small beauty amongst the chaos. Now there was nothing but a barren shell of a world Evra had voluntarily stepped into, for him. And now he was gone and she was alone, more alone than she'd ever been, in this room, and life full of people. The same room he'd died, and left her in.

Now only thing that Evra cared about, involved destroying every part of this world, the world she was stuck in, without him.

So she allowed Rodolphus to latch his firm grip onto her arm, and he led, taking no care about whether she had clear passage or not, out of the drawing room, and into the dining room, which held the nearest floo point.

* * *

Part Eight

Reckoning

* * *

Rodolphus' home was modest in size and relatively well kept, in another lifetime, Evra might have even thought it nice. The gothic furnishings complimented the dark walls, art pieces and hangings perfectly.

"Would you like a drink, wife?" Rodolphus asked, placing such an obvious amount of disdain on the last word that Evra actually found her head jerking to face him. Once, she mused to herself, I would have been afraid of that tone. Not now. Evra looked her husband dead in the eye as she replied, "No, I wouldn't, husband." Mimicking the way he said his last word perfectly with her own.

Rodolphus laughed, outwardly.

"You really think you're playing in the big league, don't you, slut?" His insult was meant to hurt, Evra knew that, she refused to give him that power, forcing her mouth into a dry smile.

"That's no way to talk to your wife, Rodolphus," Evra replied, her tone purposefully full of false sweetness.

"You know I could wipe that smile off your whore mouth very, very easily?"

"Threatening me now, what a start to our married bliss." Evra kept her voice steady as she watched him, her right hand gripping her wand tightly.

"Not a threat, you stupid girl," he hissed, Evra felt the hair on the back of her neck begin to rise. Rodolphus looked more menacing than she'd seen. Her eyes didn't leave him as he continued, "There are three words I could say that would turn that pretty little face of yours into a crying mess."

Adrenaline rushed through Evra like a spitfire, if this was to be her life now, then she held it with no merit. She fought for a reason to stay quiet, weak and obedient. A part of her wanted to bide her time, not rise to his words and settle herself, but, she realised all of a sudden, that just wasn't her, it hadn't even been her.

I love you, she thought, before she spat, "Try me," back at Rodolphus, her face an unemotional mask and her wand poised, should she need it.

The Death Eater's face distorted as his laughter returned.

"You know this isn't my first marriage?" He asked, his eyes boring through her, bulging.

"Of course I know that," Evra snapped, glaring at the man in front of her.

"Do you know who took my wife away from me?"

Understanding washed over Evra like a wave, "That was why you wanted to marry me, to punish me for what my mother did to Bellatrix."

"Not smiling now, are you bitch?" He growled, "You're only half right. I will spend the rest of your short life punishing you, but it's probably time you found out,"

Rodolphus paused, and in that moment, Evra knew exactly what he was going to say. She recalled the memory of the Marking Ceremony. He'd brought the blood-potion to the altar, presumably he'd brewed it. It wouldn't have been hard to alter one, he could easily have known the order they would be standing in. He'd took exactly from her what her mother had taken from him.

"Poison?" She queried, somehow managing to stop her voice from wobbling.

"Easiest kill yet." He smirked as he replied.

"He was never a traitor."

"No, your precious Theodore was never a traitor." The smile on Rodolphus' face was triumphant, and in the following seconds Evra had formed a plan in her mind. Her tears fell, blurring her vision but not her other senses. She knew exactly where he was at all times. Her shoulders stooped and her breathing became ragged, she heard him laugh, for which she was grateful, because it meant she still knew exactly where he was.

"How do you feel now, silly little girl?"

This reckoning is for you, baby. Evra thought as she closed her eyes, choosing her words carefully, "How...do I...feel? Somehow...I think I knew all along. And you know what? I feel okay enough to do this. Avada Kedavra!"

Her wand had raised quicker than Rodolphus could realise, the curse hitting him, thanks to her close attention to his position at all times, square in the chest.

Evra stared at the body for a long minute. She was aware of the stark rise and fall of her chest from her heavy breathing.

Her body seemed to move of entirely its own volition, and Evra found herself walking back towards the floo, she threw a handful of powder into the hearth, crying out a loud "Malfoy Manor!"

She stepped out the fireplace they had disappeared in, in truth not fifteen minutes before. The only one present in the dining room was Voldemort himself. Were he shocked to see her, his pale face hid it well.

"My Lord," she began, dipping her head in a slight bow. "I'm afraid my marriage has ended, I am dreadfully sorry your precious time was wasted this afternoon."

Voldemort's red eyes regarded her as he sat with his long fingers touching, positioned casually beneath his chin, "And why would that be, Evra?"

"Because I just killed my husband."

Voldemort's expression was unreadable as he continued to watch her, until his face broke into a wide smile, a flick of his wand drew out the nearest chair to him and her smile met his as he spoke; "Take a seat, my dear."

* * *

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